Escape From Paris
by Sybl Angelkat
Summary: Esmeralda chooses the archdeacon over the gallows, much to everyone's surprise. Fleeing Paris was the easy part—now, they're stuck with each other for better or worse. It's amazing what a trip to Jehan's will change. Jehan/OC and CF/E
1. Chapter 1

The Setting: 1982 movie-verse (I just find the Derek Jacobi version of Claude Frollo much easier to work with than the Disney Claude Frollo) The original characters belong to Victor Hugo and whoever wrote the scripts. Elizabeth and all other OC's from here on out are mine.

Esmeralda chooses the archdeacon over the gallows, much to everyone's surprise. Fleeing Paris was the easy part—now, they're stuck with each other for better or worse. It's amazing what a trip to Jehan's will change. Jehan/OC and CF/E

"I can still save you…even now…" he had whispered.

The rope seemed to tighten around her neck though no one had touched it in the last five seconds. With her hands bound behind her back and no hope for a future left, her head bowed. That was all it took. Claiming that there was hope for her salvation, Claude began to argue heatedly with the executioner and the soldiers. He demanded that a signed order be shown to him and that all the necessary preparations had not been made. Dumbstruck, they had to get Esmeralda down from the stool and untie her. She sagged onto the wood platform, dizziness rapidly overtaking her.

Then, he turned and saw what she had seen just seconds earlier. Phoebus, thinking he wouldn't be noticed, was watching through a window. Beside him, breasts almost uncovered by the blanket she held, was a young blonde woman. Rage boiled his insides. It should have been him…he couldn't believe that this womanizing rat had lived. Phoebus immediately realized his blunder and pulled back.

"There's your traitorous Captain Phoebus right there!" he snarled.

The others had spotted him. Guards surged towards the house, not willing to toy with the powerful archdeacon. In the chaos, he seized Esmeralda and dragged her back into the cathedral. Where no one could see, he pressed her into the wall to hold her upright. His own legs were shaking violently.

"Listen to me," he said firmly, "I need absolute obedience from here on! We have got until sundown to get out of Paris or you can still potentially be hanged for witchcraft even though the captain lives. Understood?"

"Yes," she choked out.

"Then come!"

He grabbed her hand, grabbing a few meager supplies in his haste. Eventually, he knew, someone would discover the missing money, but he intended to be as far away from here as he could get.

There was no one in the stables, thankfully, and someone had conveniently left the black mare with the white stockings saddled. He had to help Esmeralda into the saddle first, then he swung up behind her. She shuddered when she realized that he would have to touch her for more than a few seconds. Her back was pressed firmly against her front and he would have to keep his arms around her to steer the horse.

_Well, at least I won't get cold,_ she thought bitterly.

The horse bolted forward and the streets of Paris began to fly by. The horse was accustomed to Claude's robes, but they were now whipping out behind him in a way that had spooked her. Claude didn't object; they needed the animal to hurry.

They at last reached the city gates, but by the time anyone in the towers noticed, they were long gone. The road unfolded before them, a packed-hard dirt path with the grooves of wagon wheels and the pits of a thousand horse's hooves. Eventually, their tracks would be indistinguishable from all the others. It was hard going for the mare, but Claude would turn her off of the road once they'd gone a bigger distance. Esmeralda could hear him breathing hard against her as if he were the one doing the running. She wondered why he seemed to be exerting so much energy when he was only sitting still. She herself felt very drained.

The sun set behind them. There were towns ahead, but Claude refused to stop. After the third one they came to, Esmeralda was getting a little irritated. What did this man have against going to bed?

Then, she realized the possibility of what might happen if they did. She tried not to be ungrateful again, even in her thoughts.

Sometime long ago, he had slowed the mare into a trot, then she decided she only wanted to walk. The horse's fatigue was definitely getting noticeable. Claude didn't force her to go any faster for the time being. It seemed that his mind was somewhere else. Even the stars started to abandon them as clouds began to build up from the north. She wondered what would happen now if it started to storm.

Thankfully, the horse seemed to suddenly know where they were headed. Without the slightest movement on the reins, her pace quickened and she hurried down the hill towards a small house. Though it must be very late, there was still a lamp lit somewhere. Someone inside must have heard the horse, for the door flung open and the shadowy figure of a man raced outside.

"Claude! As I live and breathe! You _do_ still exist! Them Bible-thumpers in that cathedral been keeping you busy, I suppose? And who's this pretty young thing? She _can't _be a nun!"

Rough, calloused hands pulled Esmeralda out of the saddle. She cringed away when the person kissed her on the cheek. Claude's expression was one of immediate displeasure. He slid down from the saddle quickly though it was clear he was stiff from sitting for so long.

"Esmeralda," Claude said, using her name for the first time, "this is my brother, Jehan."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were ashamed of me," Jehan remarked, "you both look tired. Get yourselves into some trouble?"

"It's quite a long story," Claude muttered.

"Well, why don't you take her inside? You know where the extra room is. I'll get this horse put up for the night."

"Thank you," the priest replied gratefully. He gave Esmeralda a look and she knew it meant "follow me". Jehan seemed okay, but she did not want to stay in this house. She did not want to be left alone with Claude Frollo for a moment. Of course, she did not know his name was Claude—to her, he was still just "the archdeacon".

They went up a narrow, rickety staircase to a set of small rooms. They were clean enough, but quite shabby. The bedcovers must have been years old and the place had definitely seen better days. The room had a distinct air of being disused.

Esmeralda stood there wondering what she would sleep in. She didn't want to undress and it was too cold anyway. He really couldn't expect her to sleep in her corset and gown, could he?

Just then, someone appeared at the door. She was a heftier woman, solidly built with a heavy hip and bottom. She was balanced out well by her very well endowed top. Even her face and her hair had curves! A woman like this could have gotten plenty of offers to marry, thought Esmeralda. She had laughing brown eyes and a crafty smile.

"Ah, you must be Claude," she said, clapping her hands together, "…oh, I'm forgetting my manners, aren't I? Hmm…what was it? Oh! You're the archdeacon, aren't you? You'll have to forgive me, I'm not accustomed to priests visiting our home."

"Our home? You mean to say that Jehan has taken you for a wife?" Claude asked. Esmeralda wanted to laugh then at the astonished look on his face. The woman didn't even have the decency to put a robe on over her ill-fitting nightgown, so every bulge and curve in her voluptuous body was visible.

"No, sir," she said, unashamed, "we're on a different arrangement of sorts. Jehan takes care of me and I take care of him. Why, if we married, that would mean I'd have to do what _he_ says! The very idea!"

Esmeralda couldn't help herself then. Claude's expression was so incredulous that she burst out laughing.

"Besides," the woman continued, "I'm not fond of screaming babes. I'll cook, I'll clean, I'll even muck stables, but I will NOT wash dirty diapers. I finally got Jehan all to myself and I prefer it to stay that way."

She turned to Esmeralda.

"Pardon me, miss," she excused herself for not including Esmeralda in the conversation, "may I ask what your name is?"

"Esmeralda," she responded, still amused by Claude's discomfort.

"Esmeralda. That's quite a nice name. It's so much more interesting than mine. I'm only Elizabeth."

Claude wanted to snort. An English woman? That explained it!

"If you'll come with me, I can get you some night clothes," she told Esmeralda, "they'll be awfully big for you, but I'm sure you can manage. Corsets are bad enough to wear during the day—you mustn't suffer at night as well. And, uh…sir, I'll be back with a gown for you as well. Thankfully, you and Jehan aren't much different in size."

Esmeralda decided she liked Elizabeth already.

"So, dear, tell me, what's brought you to our home? Are you expecting?"

Esmeralda laughed despite the bluntness of the question.

"No," she admitted, "we are nothing more than strangers to each other. He did save my life…"

Elizabeth grinned as she placed the folded nightgown into Esmeralda's hands.

"Ah…so he _does_ stand a chance," she teased.

"No…the truth is that I really can't stand him," Esmeralda confessed in a low whisper, "he's been trying to get me for some time now, but I don't want him. He's forceful and has no respect for my wishes. And he…"

She didn't know why she was so quick to tell Elizabeth about what had transpired, but she trusted her. Elizabeth only nodded as Esmeralda whispered—she didn't want either of the men to hear.

"Goodness," Elizabeth muttered, "if I'd had _that_ much power over a man, I'd have milked it for everything I could! Sure, he made a mess of it all, but he was willing to kill another man who, from the sound of it, was a right pig to you."

Esmeralda sighed.

"Yes…but am I a terrible person for being angry with him? I've felt nothing but anger and hatred and disgust since I discovered his true intentions. I can't even be grateful for fear he'll try to force himself on me again."

Elizabeth shrugged.

"Give it time, dear. He's never loved before, at least according to Jehan. He doesn't know what he's doing and you must teach him. Like it or not, fate, or God, whatever you want to call it, has thrown you together. You're all each other has now. Think about what he's giving up for you—it's unlikely he'll be greeted with open arms if he returns to the cathedral. They'll never trust him again because he ran away. There will be more trouble for him than there can possibly be for you. You're lucky—you know how to survive on the streets. The archdeacon does not; his hands are pale and smooth, a sign he's never done hard labor a day in his life. It's going to be a road of Hell for him. For all we know, he could even give up on his God. If he does, you're the only one who can hold him together."

Esmeralda made a face. It was a lot to expect from someone who's life had been ruined.

"I'm not saying I condone his actions," Elizabeth said, "take it from me that the whole family has a tendency to over-dramatize everything. Every single one in the Frollo family exhibits histrionic tendencies. They're all absolute fools sometimes, but they start with good intentions. He didn't handle it well at all, but he could change with your help."

She leaned in closer.

"Besides…think of the fun of it," she teased, "a priest…forbidden fruit! He's completely untouched, which means you can show _him_ what to do!"

Esmeralda turned about six shades of red.

"Don't have a stroke, girl, I was only joking," Elizabeth said, realizing she'd stepped much too far over the line, "I should probably give you a gown for him…here we've been talking and you both are probably exhausted."

She gave Esmeralda the other gown and Esmeralda retreated from the room quickly. When she returned to the room, Claude was not there. She could hear him talking to Jehan downstairs and breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn't have to change in front of him. As quickly as she could, she took off her corset, then the dress underneath. She shimmied into the oversized gown and was grateful that none of her womanly curves were visible under the material. Elizabeth was easily twice her weight and breadth. Shivering, she slid beneath the covers.

When Claude finally escaped from Jehan and came upstairs, she pretended to be asleep. She watched him from one eye opened ever so slightly. She quickly closed it if he glanced in her direction.

She watched the robes slide away from his body. He laid them carefully over the back of the chair. The gloves came first, then the outer robe, then the inner robe. As the black and white materials with their elaborate trim were shed, she realized more and more that he was just a man. No matter his profession, he was still flesh and blood underneath his holy trappings. Somehow, knowing his true name made her understand even more that he was only a man.

At last, he stood only in his underclothes. The soft white material fit close to his body and he looked much thinner without the bulk of the robes. Without the black skullcap on, the tonsure at the back of his head was exposed. Somehow, he seemed vulnerable without the priests' trappings. In time, the shaved hair at the back of his head would grow back and no one would ever know where he had come from.

He slid the nightgown over his head and blew out the candle. The storm was holding off, though the air was unpleasantly still and damp. He knelt at the bedside and folded his hands. She listened to him whispering his prayers and she saw the crucifix pendant still clasped among his pale, thin fingers. A strange feeling came over her as if she were somehow violating him by listening in on his private moment with God. He assumed, of course, that she was fast asleep and would not hear.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted to God, if He was listening, "…I never expected it to go this far…I don't know where to go or how to provide for her…I hope it was your will and not mine…if it wasn't, please forgive me."

His voice was trembling now.

"I know you are there," he shivered, "but I am frightened just the same…I know no life outside the cathedral…I always thought I was safe from the world and its sins, but now I am dwelling right in the midst of it. Please, oh, God, help me, for I cannot do this on my own! I don't have the strength!"

Was he crying?

"Please…help me make it right in whatever ways I can…she does not love me and I was a fool to think that she would after all I've done…but let her try! I know I don't deserve it…I always have known…and if she never forgives me, it's a cross I'll bear, for I know I did not allow her to die for my sin! I'm so confused, God…so confused…"

He sniffed and Esmeralda knew then that they were real tears. She tried to block out the rest of the prayer, for the pity was growing despite all the hatred.

She was thankful when he finally stopped praying and regained his composure. When he lay down beside her, his fingertips only grazed her cheek for a fraction of a second. He stayed a respectable distance away and did not touch her the rest of the night. Eventually, she really did fall asleep.

And so was the first night on their journey….


	2. Chapter 2

Claude wasn't there when Esmeralda woke up the next morning. His robes had disappeared from the back of the chair and the nightgown was folded neatly and put away. The window was coated in beads of rainwater. Downstairs, she could hear voices and smell food cooking. The hunger finally announced itself, gnawing at her insides. She remembered that she'd had nothing to eat at all yesterday and had finally regained her appetite. She noticed that Claude had smoothed his side of the covers out. For some reason, it made her feel funny to see that he was gone. She got dressed and went downstairs. It was too cold to stay up here and she'd have to face him sooner or later.

Claude sat by the fire, a steaming mug in his hand. He stared into the flames while Jehan teased Elizabeth. He glanced up when Esmeralda walked by, but said nothing.

"How did you sleep last night? It was _cold,_" Elizabeth said, "I do hope I put enough blankets—did I?"

"Yes," Esmeralda said gratefully, "is that a feather bed?"

"Yes, actually. Every time we shoot a turkey or anything else, we save all the feathers," Elizabeth said, "waste not, want not."

"I do believe that's the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in," Esmeralda confessed.

Jehan gave Claude a little nudge, but Claude just pulled away. He was clearly not in a good mood for some reason.

"May I help you with anything?" Esmeralda asked.

"The dishes are in those cabinets over there," Elizabeth said, "if you would be so kind as to set the table, I can finish making breakfast."

Her plump little hands kneaded the dough on the wooden board so fast that they were nearly a blur. She retrieved a cup from the counter and began cutting out biscuits.

"Elizabeth can cook almost anything," Jehan remarked, "she can even roast rats and make them taste like chicken."

Claude choked on his tea. Esmeralda smiled and Elizabeth shook with laughter.

"Jehan, stop exaggerating! You'll put them off their meal," she scolded, giving him a slap on his rump. Jehan brushed the powdery handprint away.

"Woman!" he muttered, though smiling.

Esmeralda thought Claude was going to have a stroke. As if to deliberately cause him further discomfort, Jehan pulled Elizabeth to him and kissed her deeply.

Claude cleared his throat.

"All right, dear, don't overdo it," Elizabeth said, pushing Jehan away, "we have guests present, remember?"

Jehan looked as though he wanted to say something smart, but the look on Claude's face silenced him. Instead, he retrieved the milk pail from its hook.

"I'm off to do the chores," he announced. Claude silently rose from his chair and followed him. The door closed with a sharp snap.

"Oh…I'd hate to be in his shoes," Esmeralda muttered, glad she wasn't the object of Claude's annoyance.

"He'll be fine," Elizabeth assured her, "he's just going to get a lecture on propriety, that's all. He probably won't even listen. He's doing it on purpose just to get on Claude's nerves."

"I think it's working," Esmeralda said, looking out the window.

Jehan was skipping merrily to the stable. Claude chased after him, the pitch and sharpness of his voice rising. Judging by his gestures, he was pretty upset.

"Jehan's only trying to have a little fun," Elizabeth said, wiping her hands on her apron, "I don't think he understands how much difficulty Claude's having right now."

The two men disappeared into the stable.

"He really does love you, you know," Elizabeth told her, "he said so this morning. He said the happiest moment of his life was waking up next to you and seeing that you were really there and you were all right."

_How can that be?_ Esmeralda thought…_Surely he misses the simpler days when I wasn't around. Surely the illusion will wear off soon…._

When they returned, breakfast was ready. Esmeralda had finished setting the square table. Jehan returned with the brimming milk pail and he seemed a little more subdued. Claude swept in behind him, his expression unchanged. His words to Esmeralda were short and few, only asking her to pass this thing or that thing. He was a far cry from the demanding man he had been yesterday who had taken charge of everything. In a strange way, he and Esmeralda had nearly traded places. It seemed that he did not know what to do now that she had agreed to his terms.

"Is everything all right?" she found herself asking him.

Everyone stopped talking at once and he seemed startled. Upon seeing that she really _was_ talking to him, he glanced down at his plate.

"Yes…of course…" he muttered awkwardly.

Jehan and Elizabeth exchanged a look.

"So, uh, Claude…how about I measure you for some new clothes? Those robes won't last very long out here," she told him, "you'll need some warmer things. Winter has returned with a vengeance, it seems."

"Please don't trouble yourself," Claude objected, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

"Nonsense," Elizabeth said warmly, "it's no trouble at all. Besides, you stick out like a snowball in a field of grass."

Claude didn't know what to say. His cheeks reddened slightly.

"She can make you a nice hat to hide that ridiculous haircut," Jehan teased. Claude crossed his arms and his look sobered slightly.

"We won't even need to go to town," Elizabeth said, "we've got plenty of materials here to work with. And Esmeralda will need some things as well."

"I don't want to trouble you," Esmeralda admitted.

"Again, it's no trouble. It's nice to have guests in the house again," Elizabeth said, "hardly anyone visits because we're far enough out here to cause an inconvenience to travelers. And I'm glad to have someone else to make things for."

"You should see her paintings," Jehan said proudly, "she's quite good, even if she is a woman."

"Were those yours upstairs?" Esmeralda asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth answered, "I have to do _something_ in my spare time. Sometimes they sell for as much as two or three hundred crowns at the Festival every year. Those paired with Jehan's colts."

"You raise colts?" Esmeralda asked.

"The best in the country," he replied proudly, "after breakfast, I can show you if you'd like."

"Of course!"

She hurried to help Elizabeth get the dishes washed. Obviously not expecting this eagerness, Claude tilted his head as a puzzled puppy would do and raised an eyebrow. He was glad, of course, that she seemed happy…but part of him was somewhat jealous. Other than her brief inquiry at the start of breakfast, she acted as though he didn't exist.

_Maybe it's better this way,_ he thought, _…at least she isn't thinking about how much she hates me._


	3. Chapter 3

She didn't realize how big the stables were until she entered them. Several box-stalls full of horses thrust their heads out to greet them. Many of them were mares. They all pricked their ears forward and snuffed at her in greeting. She touched the velvety noses gently.

"Many people say it's foolishness to name animals that will only be sold," Jehan told her, "but they all answer to the names I've given them. I have but to call their names."

Behind Esmeralda, Claude was wondering how a man like Claude could be so good with horses and have such bad habits such as drinking. If he'd saved half the money he drank away, he'd probably be even better off than he was now.

"This is our newest addition," Jehan told Esmeralda, "be very quiet and look inside there."

She carefully peered over the half-door of the stall. A white mare was munching her hay. She was probably the most beautiful mare Esmeralda had ever seen. Then, on tall, gangly legs came the foal.

It was unlike anything Esmeralda had ever seen. It was such a light gray that it almost appeared snow-white. Its coat gleamed in the dim silvery light outside. Unafraid of her at all, it approached her with curiosity. When it looked straight at her, she could see that it had blue eyes instead of black ones.

"Her name is Luna, like the moon," Jehan told Esmeralda, "because she's white and silver. She was born only a week ago. Her brother belongs to the captain of the royal archers."

Esmeralda cringed.

"He's offered to buy this one as well when she's all grown up," Jehan said proudly.

"Oh, no!" Esmeralda objected, "Please don't give her to Phoebus…_anyone_ but him."

Jehan raised an eyebrow. Behind her, where she couldn't see him, Claude confirmed his questioning look with a look of his own.

"She'll be fine," Jehan said, "and besides, I'm not running a charity here. No one else could afford to pay such a price for Luna, except maybe the king himself."

The little filly was now nursing her mother. Esmeralda's heart ached at the thought of such a beautiful animal in Phoebus's thoughtless hands. Phoebus didn't deserve anything that beautiful, even if it was just a horse.

"Well…it's going to be a while yet anyway," Jehan told her, "I refuse to give them up until they're properly trained and fully grown anyway. It keeps the next set of owners from teaching them bad habits. The mares don't go until they're at least three and the stallions don't go until they're at least four."

Esmeralda sighed. She did go and look at all the others, but none of them were as beautiful as Luna.

"You made a mistake," Claude whispered to Jehan.

"Did I?" he asked nonchalantly.

Claude gave him a displeased look as if he'd been on the wrong end of a practical joke. Jehan's turquoise eyes only twinkled merrily.

"Those are the stallions," he said to Esmeralda, "I usually trade one out for another one every few years. I only keep the best-behaved ones."

It was true. None of the horses offered to bite her or otherwise misbehaved. She petted them and scratched behind their ears.

"Even Elizabeth can ride or drive them," Jehan bragged, "not many could say that about their stallions."

_Whoosh!_ One of them seemed to agree. He seemed to be very interested in the black mare that Claude had stolen from the cathedral. Claude knew that someone would eventually figure it out once they discovered her missing. His heart sank into his stomach: Esmeralda seemed to be enjoying herself here…he hated to tell her that they couldn't stay any longer than a few days. They would be discovered sooner or later. The mare's markings were too distinctive.

"It's a shame it's so dreary out," Elizabeth lamented, "a good horseback ride would be good for all of us. But…we can get started on the new clothes today and go out when the weather's nice."

Claude could not figure out why he couldn't say anything. His tongue lay as flat to the bottom of his mouth as though it were glued there. Esmeralda was none the wiser to his mental objection.

"Come on, Claude," Jehan said naughtily, "I bet I can still best you at checkers!"

"You didn't win last time," Claude reminded him.

"But I will this time!"

"We'll see."

The slightest edge of competition appeared in Claude's voice. Elizabeth chuckled.

"Three crowns on Claude," she whispered, "Jehan's far too impatient. Come on."

While the game was going on, Elizabeth measured Esmeralda for a new dress. She scribbled down some measurements, then did a quick sketch on the newspaper print. She decided to make one that would cover Esmeralda's shoulders better, but it would be only a little thicker. Too thin would leave her susceptible to cold and too thick would overheat her since the weather had been so fickle. She also decided to make some new under things for her. Claude would have to have his measurements taken after the game.

"You can come to the store room right here and decide what you like best," Elizabeth said, "the materials are plain, but we can dress them up as much as you like, for I have lots of ribbons and lace."

Esmeralda's eyes fell on a beautiful deep red material that had shining golden threads running through it. Of course, she could never ask for it; such material must have cost a lot of money.

"Good choice," Elizabeth said, snatching the roll of fabric up.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Esmeralda objected.

"But you will," Elizabeth pressed, "you'll look stunning in this. It brings out the green-blue of your eyes."

She pinned the paper pattern to the material and fearlessly began cutting them out. Esmeralda did not know anything about making clothes, so she went to watch Jehan and Claude's game.

Jehan jumped one of Claude's pieces.

"King me," he said pridefully.

Claude did without any comment. Then, he jumped three of Jehan's checkers right in a row. Jehan's jaw fell open.

"What the…no fair!" he sputtered.

"If you would only spend half as much time looking as you do talking, you might have seen it coming," Claude playfully scolded him.

Jehan muttered under his breath and kinged Claude's checker.

"I'll get you if it's the last thing I do," he spat.

"I'm so frightened," Claude joked sarcastically.

Esmeralda giggled and both looked up.

"At first, I questioned whether you really were brothers," she admitted, "but now I'm beginning to see it."

Elizabeth burst out laughing. Jehan laughed. And Claude, for the first time in days, nearly smiled.

"God made that decision," he said dryly, "not me."

He turned his attention back to the game.

"Got you now!" Jehan warned.

Claude raised an eyebrow. He jumped another one of Jehan's kings and was now safely away from the other two.

"Ooooohhhh," Jehan growled, "….blast it!"

Esmeralda had to sit down before she dropped to the floor. Claude won the game by a landslide.

"Ugh…" Jehan muttered, "insufferable…that's what you are!"

Claude stood up to stretch.

"Esmeralda…you come here. I'll teach you how to play," Jehan said.

Claude shook his head.

"Oh, lighten up, you insufferable Bible-basher," Jehan scolded him, "it's not as though she's going to any gaming hells after this, are you, my lady?"

Esmeralda only grinned. Claude huffed away, clearly insulted. Jehan replaced all the checkers and explained the rules. They played three games right in a row, but she did not manage to beat him. She never even got kings—he jumped all of her pieces before she could get them to the other side.

"You'll get it with practice," he assured her. Claude's disapproving look did not phase either of them.

He was getting annoyed. Though grateful that Jehan allowed him to stay here, Claude hadn't pictured things going quite this way. Jehan and Elizabeth both were going to be a bad influence on Esmeralda. And quite frankly, he was sick of being ignored when _he_ was the one who had saved her life. By the time they all went to bed, his mood was even worse. He felt totally out of his element here. It was too noisy to pray during the daytime and he simply had no earthly idea what to do all day. Adjusting to life outside the cathedral was going to take an awful lot of work. It was the longest twenty-four hours he'd ever spent next to yesterday.

Esmeralda didn't even seem repulsed by his presence. He let her get changed first and she got under the covers before he came in. Then, she lay with her back to him while he changed. Neither of them said anything to each other. He waited until she was truly asleep this time before praying.

_God will hear me under the covers,_ he thought sleepily. Though he wasn't touching Esmeralda, the warmth from her body lulled him to sleep.

He was woken up an hour later by a strange banging sound. Sitting upright, he listened, trying to figure out the source. After a second, he shuddered and prayed for it to stop. Esmeralda was awake too, but she said nothing. When the noise continued, Claude lost his temper and thumped the wall.

"Knock it off, Jehan! We can hear you, you know!"

"Jealous?" came the ragged, lustful voice.

Esmeralda thought Claude was going to kill him. Luckily, that was the last of the noise. Growling under his breath, Claude lay back down.

"We're in _their_ house," Esmeralda reminded him.

He stared at her in shock.

"What kind of a place did you grow up in?" he asked incredulously.

"There were a lot of us in a very small space," she explained, "we got used to it…soon, you don't even notice it."

"Please tell me they were all married," Claude muttered in disgust.

"Not all of them," Esmeralda admitted.

His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache.

"You poor girl…" he muttered, "…raised in the very womb of sin itself…no wonder you're so mixed up on the matters of right and wrong."

It was Esmeralda's turn to be angry.

"Excuse me? You were raised in a monastery and you stabbed a man in an attempt to kill him! Then, you tried to touch me, first in the bell tower, then in the dungeon! You hardly have room to talk!"

"Enough," he snapped, "go to sleep."

She rolled over and turned her back to him, knowing she was right. He was furious because he knew she was right. They didn't speak again until the next morning when it was necessary.

And so ended the second day of their journey.


	4. Chapter 4

The rain had frozen and turned to snow almost overnight.

"My goodness," Elizabeth shivered, "I guess you can't leave after all."

Esmeralda turned to look at Claude, who wanted to glare at Elizabeth.

"We were only supposed to stay for a day or two," Claude admitted, "they will come looking for us eventually and you know that."

"I don't want to leave," Esmeralda said firmly.

"I understand, but we'll have to when this snow melts," Claude said, equally as firmly.

Esmeralda walked away, furious. She was enjoying herself here: why did he have to take away _everything_ that made her happy?

"Claude, dear, may I speak to you in the kitchen?" Elizabeth asked, trying to sound casual. He wasn't in the mood to argue, so he followed her.

"I don't mean to intrude," she said uneasily, "I know that this is between you and her, but please do consider Esmeralda's feelings. She's told me everything, you know. She's terrified of being alone with you."

"Of course," Claude mumbled bitterly.

"She's really resenting your attitude right now," Elizabeth continued, "she feels as though you've made it your mission in life to make her unhappy. First with her being arrested for dancing, then the episode with Phoebus, then getting her imprisoned and sentenced to death…Jehan and I both know your true intentions are to keep her safe, but she can't see that right now. Why not let her stay until you can get something permanent set up for her? It would be a lot less difficult for both of you."

Claude lost his temper.

"You listen to me," he snarled, grabbing Elizabeth by the shoulders, "you have no authority over Esmeralda and I! The two of you are living in sin and I had the unfortunate moment of discovering the evidence last night! How can I trust you when a demon speaks through your lips at this very moment?"

Elizabeth pried his hands loose.

"Excuse me? You're a _priest!_ The way _you_ behaved concerning your position was less than laudable, you know! Jehan and I don't pretend: we are what we are and we've never disguised it as something holy. You, on the other hand, are a very large hypocrite!"

The iciness outside suddenly matched the iciness inside. Claude went very still, very silent.

"You speak of demonic possession and sin all over this house," Elizabeth snapped, "but does the Bible itself not say 'do not attempt to remove the speck of sawdust from another's eye without first removing the log from your own'? Yes, Claude Frollo, archdeacon of Notre Dame, I _have_ read the Bible. Before you start working on our so-called demons, why don't you clean them out of your own innards first?"

She angrily threw another log onto the fire and cursed so horribly that Claude's ears burned.

"Well, don't just stand there! Go make yourself useful and bring in some wood! I'll never get dinner at this rate!"

Without a word, he slipped out the door.

"Bah…demons! The very idea!" Elizabeth spat.

Esmeralda quietly entered the kitchen. She had heard every word.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth turned, her expression softening.

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you."

Elizabeth retrieved the sourdough for that day's baking of bread.

"They're all alike, the Frollo men," she sighed, "you just have to learn to stand up to them. They like feisty women for that reason, you know. Soft, obedient, quiet women bore them. Whatever you do, don't give in. Wear him down and he'll learn to respect you."

Elizabeth kneaded the dough. Esmeralda stirred the stew in the giant black pot.

"So…I don't mean to pry, but why aren't you and Jehan married? You obviously love each other."

"Well…it's a bit complicated, really," Elizabeth answered, "I don't mind giving him my body once in a while. I really don't mind the cooking and the cleaning as long as I'm doing it just because I want to do nice things for Jehan. I don't mind taking care of him. But I can't say I'm ready to give him all of my heart just yet…I like knowing I can leave anytime I want."

"But would you leave him?"

Elizabeth thought that over.

"Under the right circumstances, I could. I'd be miserable without him, but it would be better than being stuck in a situation I don't want."

"What were your terms?" Esmeralda asked.

"He cannot lay with another woman while I'm staying with him, he cannot strike me or curse at me, and he cannot make me feel as though I am less than he is. Anything else is negotiable."

"That sounds like marriage," Esmeralda laughed.

"You'd be surprised," Elizabeth answered, "I've known plenty of women whose husbands beat them and swore at them. My mother was an unfortunate victim. I have no desire to get married because I did not want to be weak like her."

"I don't think marriage necessarily makes one weak," Esmeralda thought out loud, "I think it's the people in the marriage."

"Well put," Elizabeth complimented her, "…so…do you trust Claude?"

"No, I do not," Esmeralda admitted.

"Give it time," Elizabeth answered, "he just has to be broken of his 'Holier-than-thou' attitude. He's a good man underneath all that."

The door creaked open and Claude came in. He had gotten most of the snow off of the wood so that it wouldn't be wet. Without a word, he dumped it all into the wood box, then left.

"Thank you very much, Claude," Elizabeth called cheerfully after him. She was answered by a door slamming.

"He said 'you're not welcome'," Esmeralda giggled.

"He will be once he thinks it over," Elizabeth said.

Jehan appeared, tramping the snow off in the lean-to.

"What did you say to him? He's angrier than a rabid dog!" Jehan commented.

"I only told him the truth," Elizabeth replied, "me thinks that the archdeacon doth study too much and not applieth enough."

"Ah…well, we won't see him the rest of the afternoon, will we? Maybe it's for the better," Jehan laughed.

His words carried further than he realized, for Claude stood at the top of the stairs, listening.

"I don't think he really means to be such a cad," Elizabeth said, "he really does seem to love you. He just trips over his own good intentions."

"It's not that I hate _him_," Esmeralda said thoughtfully, "but it's always about what _he_ wants. Just once, I'd like for him to consider what _I _want."

"What do you want, then?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know…I've never gotten a chance to think about it," she said, "but I know that I _don't_ want to be dragged off to some faraway place by myself. Paris is the only place I've ever known…I'm not like him. Strangers generally tend to mean trouble…I don't mean the two of you, of course. I feel as though I've known you for forever."

"I see," Elizabeth said softly, "and will you tell him that yourself?"

"I want to," Esmeralda said, "but I don't think he'll listen."

Claude sagged against the wall, a stabbing pain shooting through his heart. He was making her suffer more and he really hadn't meant to do that. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

_If only I had known this would be so hard on her,_ he thought, _if I had known all the trouble this would cause…I'd have released her the first time and been content just to pass her on the streets. _

The other three continued to talk in the kitchen. He was grateful when the subject changed to something else. He didn't like hearing himself talked about this much in such a negative way. The sadness bore down on him like a horrible weight. It occurred to him that he didn't know anything about women other than the prejudices that he had been taught from an early age. Elizabeth and Esmeralda were far from the weak, stupid creatures he'd always pictured in his mind. In fact, right now, he was feeling very much like the weak one.


	5. Chapter 5

The night that the snow melted, Elizabeth lay awake in bed for a long time. She'd rolled over five or six times and Jehan was getting a little aggravated.

"God's teeth, woman, will you lay still?" he asked irritably.

Elizabeth sighed and sat up.

"It's not fair, Jehan… they're leaving tomorrow…oh…does it sound horribly crazy that I want to go with them?"

Jehan stared at her.

"Not without you, of course," Elizabeth said as though it were obvious, "I couldn't stand going anywhere without you unless you where what chased me away."

He placed his hand on hers.

"I know that you and Esmeralda have become close friends, but we can't just up and leave. What about the horses and the garden? What about the house?"

"It's the dead of winter, Jehan. There is nothing in the garden. And as for the house, it's quite old and very drafty. And the horses…surely someone can bring them along in time?"

"Elizabeth…" Jehan groaned.

She smiled.

"Oh, please, Jehan…it would make me very happy," she pleaded, "besides…I would be very, very grateful to you."

To prove her point, she ran one hand down his side. His eyes darkened with lust.

"You would, would you?" he said in a teasing tone, "That might almost be worth it."

"Almost?" Elizabeth sounded a little insulted.

Outside the door, Claude held his ear to the crack of the door. He had been silent and still as death until Esmeralda walked by. Quickly, he snared her and clamped one hand over her mouth.

"Yes…there's one thing you might agree to that would really work in your favor."

"No, Jehan, I will not marry you," Elizabeth growled.

"Fine," Jehan said crisply, rolling over, "no move for us."

Elizabeth buried her face in her pillow. He could feel the vibration of her frustrated scream. Then, she uncovered her mouth.

"I hate you, do you know that?"

"Yes," Jehan grinned, "so…are you going to marry me or not?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes to the heavens and groaned.

"Yes, Jehan, you bastard, I will marry you."

"Good girl. Get some sleep," he said, patting her on the rump.

"Shhh," he hissed gently against her ear.

"Go to bed, Claude!" Jehan yelled. Esmeralda shook with silent laughter against Claude's body.

"How did you do that?" Claude asked, releasing Esmeralda.

"I know you," Jehan replied, "you can congratulate us tomorrow. Go to bed."

They both quickly went into the extra bedroom and closed the door.

"They're finally getting married," Esmeralda sighed dreamily, "and it's because of us…we're very fortunate to be a part of this."

"Yes, I suppose we are," he admitted after blowing out the candle. For some reason, she didn't detest the sudden presence of his weight as he slid into bed beside her. While they were both getting situated, Claude stopped suddenly and glanced over at her.

"Esmeralda…" he said suddenly.

She looked up at him questioningly, her dark blue eyes locking with his light blue-green ones.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Not much. I heard Elizabeth trying not to strangle Jehan, why?"

He couldn't help but be amused because of her smile.

"Do you know why she's agreed?"

"No."

"They want to come with us, or at least Elizabeth does and she's just talked him into it."

Claude almost melted when Esmeralda's warm smile filled her face. Her expression suddenly became troubled.

"Are they coming with us?" she asked. He could easily read between the lines. What she really meant was: _Are you letting them come with us?_

"Yes…we will travel together," Claude said, "it will be safer that way."

She was wondering if there was some sort of catch. Then, he rose from the bed and pulled a scroll from the pocket of his robes. He unrolled it and lay it across her lap.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

For the first time, he smiled. He _really _smiled.

"You tell us."

She stared at him in shock.

"You jest with me," she whispered.

"No jesting," he assured her.

She stared down at the map, illuminated in the moonlight.

"Why would you trust me with such a big decision?" she asked, suspicious.

"I thought that would be quite obvious," Claude answered, rolling the map back up and putting it away, "I love you regardless of what you feel towards me…can't you even conceive of that?"

Esmeralda bit her lip and he knew the answer. No, she didn't understand. He returned to the bed beside her and lay down. She stared at his back for a long time.

"It occurred to me that I've stolen every choice concerning the two of us away from you," he said quietly, "…I don't want your days with me to be unhappy. I don't think I could bear that."

He froze, stiff as a board, when he felt a sudden pressure on his back. It was only until he saw Esmeralda's hand that he realized what had happened. She had hugged him from behind.

"Thank you," she said, genuine gratitude welling up in her voice.

He wanted so much to embrace her back, but he didn't dare. The most he could do was let his own hand graze hers for a fraction of a second. Then, she released him.

For the first time in weeks, Claude felt something he had not felt in a long time: a ray of hope.

The third night had passed and things were beginning to look better.


	6. Chapter 6

The new gown was done first. The shirts, Elizabeth claimed, were much easier and faster. As they traveled in the carriage, she sewed continuously. The men took turns driving the horses and Elizabeth taught Esmeralda how to sew.

With Elizabeth's help, Esmeralda had finally chosen a place. Elizabeth had an inheritance coming, a nice manor that needed fixing up but was worth the effort. The journey was long, but it was much easier with someone else to talk to.

Esmeralda and Claude still hadn't quite mastered the art of conversation with each other, but they were slowly but surely improving. There was much more to Claude than his profession. He could read, write, and speak five languages fluently. Though very few people knew English at the time, he did. He and Elizabeth taught Jehan and Esmeralda some while they were traveling, enough to get by with. English was complicated—it had too many rules and exceptions.

She found out more than just the diversity of languages. Claude had become a monk after a very difficult childhood forced him to look beyond his earthly father for answers. In a strange sense, he and Jehan had taken opposite paths in the search to find themselves. When he was having a particularly stressful day, he liked to hide out on the cathedral roof and read or just watch the people go by below. The most moving moment in his life (before he met her) was a woman who'd been trying for years to have a child with her husband and they finally conceived. They had very little to give, but the husband spent time volunteering at the cathedral as a repairman and the woman brought him the first ripe apple from their young apple tree. To her shock, she discovered that he had nothing against street performers as long as their acts were okay for children to watch and as long as they weren't bothering anybody. He disliked the other cleric he'd worked with immensely and had struggled to keep from giving the man a piece of his mind. He had also given Quasimodo a puppy at one point, but the poor thing had been chasing a bird and fallen off of a window ledge. He also confessed to missing Quasimodo immensely.

He learned some things about Esmeralda as well. She believed in God, Mary, and Jesus, but not in organized religion since it had always treated her and her people badly. She disliked flowers in the house because they reminded her of funerals. She suffered a little from claustrophobia because she'd been locked in a trunk as a child. Her favorite color was dark blue, the shade the sky turned just as night fell. She could play the flute, though she hadn't done so in years, and she liked children. Her favorite food was freshly baked bread when it was still warm with a dab of butter and honey. She had once been given a drawing by a promising artist, but the drawing was lost in a fire along with his life. She had wanted to travel the world when she was little and she'd partly gotten her wish. She wanted to learn how to ride a horse without a saddle or bridle because then the animal could be just as God made it—free.

The carriage traveled well into the night. The inn that they stayed in had tiny beds. Esmeralda was surprised to see Claude about to spend the night in the chair.

"You can't sleep there—you won't be able to move tomorrow," she objected.

He stared at her, surprised. Was this really the same woman who had asked him to go away, the one who said she couldn't bear to look at him?

She had moved to one side and was looking at him expectantly. He got up and lay down beside her. They were touching, but it wasn't enough to be a problem. He almost slipped up and kissed her on the cheek. He restrained himself at the last possible second and lay very still. He could feel her breathing….it was like a lullaby. Their shared body heat under the covers kept them both comfortably warm.

A scream pierced through the night. Both Claude and Esmeralda sat up, hearts thundering. The door was locked; no one would be able to get in. Even so, his am went around her protectively.

Another scream. Then, the sounds of a struggle came from nearby. Both of Claude's arms were around Esmeralda now. She wasn't objecting.

Silence fell again.

"Stay here," he whispered, gently disentangling her. She watched him with wide, fearful eyes as he went towards the door. She wanted him to come back.

The latch on the door sounded painfully loud in the smothering silence. He looked both ways, but couldn't see anything. There were some other people in the hallway talking, but they were ignoring his inquiries. He stayed there for a minute, listening to the snatches of conversation.

"….went insane and stabbed him."

"….been trying to escape for ages…"

"…she'll hang for certain, now…"

"…never wanted to be married…"

That scared him. Pale-faced and trembling, Claude re-latched the door and got back in bed.

"What happened?" she asked, still afraid.

"It sounds as though there's been a murder…a wife killed her husband," he said uneasily, "it sounds as though there was a problem in their marriage."

"That's terrible," Esmeralda shuddered. She hated the idea of being that desperate. Even when she was sure she hated Claude Frollo, she would have never tried to kill him. She had been resigned to her fate those few nights ago.

It was clear that this incident had unnerved him. She wondered if he was afraid of her as well.

"I wonder if Phoebus's wife has stabbed him yet," she joked.

His mind wasn't on humor right now.

"It seems strange that we're never going back," he confessed, "I keep thinking I'll wake up in the cathedral and then I never do."

Maybe it was the fear she had just felt. Maybe she was finally starting to pity him. Her hand slipped into his, causing him to turn his head and look at her. His own hand lay limp, unresponsive. He didn't want to end up like that other woman's husband.

"Maybe it's for the best," Esmeralda said, "…never going back. I won't miss being arrested every five minutes, or being told I have to dance anyway when I know I'll get in trouble. And you…you actually seem happier as well."

His fingers cautiously curled around hers and that's how they fell asleep. There were no plans or vows made, but the prospect of actually being friends was good. He'd rather have her this way than being sullen or angry. She knew he'd gotten nervous and was surprised that he could ever be scared of her.

It was odd, yes, but she _wanted_ him to trust her.

The next morning, Elizabeth and Jehan were exhausted just as much as they were. No one had gotten much sleep last night, so the weary travelers either paid for another night or went somewhere else.

Claude fell asleep in the carriage. Elizabeth had started on her sewing again, but her head went down and the material lay limp in her lap. Esmeralda was close to giving in to the exhaustion as well. She couldn't get herself situated.

Claude wouldn't really mind, would he? Nah…probably not. She shifted so that she was laying down. Her head rested against Claude's leg and she fell asleep almost instantly.

At some point, Claude woke and wondered why one leg felt so heavy. When he looked down, he saw a mass of dark hair. Smiling, he gently touched the coffee-colored curls that tinted gold in the sunlight. It really sank in then: they were truly safe. Only God Himself would be in charge of them now; they could really get to know each other. The last two or three days on the road had been relatively pleasant. Eventually, the rocking of the carriage made him sleepy again. He fell asleep looking at Esmeralda's sleeping face. It was hard to believe that the jolting of the carriage had ever been annoying; maybe they had all gotten used to it.

After a little while, they stopped so that Claude and Jehan could switch out. Jehan was exhausted and grateful to hand over the reins. Claude was surprised when Esmeralda chose to sit in the front bench with him.

"It's a nice day and I've slept half of it," she commented, "besides, Elizabeth and I will keep talking and Jehan will never get any rest."

Of course, he didn't mind her being up there with him. After she situated herself and tucked her skirt in where it wouldn't spook the horses, the carriage began to move. It fascinated her how the horses knew what to do; she never actually saw his hands move.

"That's the reason they wear bits in their mouths," he explained, "anyone who has worked with horses long enough doesn't need to use brute force to control them. I'll show you."

He gave the reins to her.

"Feel that? It takes only the slightest touch."

She barely moved her hands at all and they sped up just the slightest bit.

"They know we've switched without even looking," he told her, "they're not pulling as hard. Jehan really does know what he's doing."

This new awareness was fascinating, but she really just wanted to sit there and watch. Besides, they were getting ready to cross a town and something might scare the horses. Claude took the reins again.

People sometimes waved to them as they went by and complimented the horses. Esmeralda beamed; it was the first time people had actually been looking up to her and not down on her.

A golden-haired girl, probably no older than seventeen, leaned out of a window and waved flirtatiously at Claude. Her dress was cut so low that her well-endowed bosom was threatening to fall out. Claude flushed with embarrassment and immediately turned his head. Then, the girl saw Esmeralda and made a face. Esmeralda laughed hysterically.

"She thinks we're together," she commented when they were safely past, "she's jealous."

"Let her think that," Claude shuddered, "I really don't mind."

Esmeralda was very amused and couldn't stop laughing. Claude just shook his head. The shaved area at the back of his head was beginning to fill in with hair again, so it was less obvious that he had ever been a priest. In a couple of months, no one would be able to tell even up close.

It took what seemed like an eternity to reach England, but they did at last. Rosewood Manor lay up ahead.

"Goodness," Jehan lamented, "are you sure we're at the right place, darling?"

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, "even if it does look like a ghost's haunt."

"I'm not afraid of ghosts," Esmeralda said dismissively.

"Neither am I," Claude said.

A face in the window startled them both and Jehan roared with laughter. Elizabeth was hanging onto the side of the carriage, shaking with hysterics.

"That wasn't a ghost," Esmeralda defended them both.

"No, it wasn't," Elizabeth agreed, "but you should have seen your faces!"

The servants came down to let them in. They demanded to know what the joke was, so Elizabeth repeated the last few lines of conversation.

"Together or separate?" one of the servants asked Claude and Esmeralda. They glanced at each other, wondering. She had gotten used to Claude being right there all the time. She wondered why it made her feel funny when he said "separate". Their rooms were right next to each other, but it wasn't going to be the same.


	7. Chapter 7

When Esmeralda woke the next morning, she found a note beside her on the pillow:

_Breakfast will be served at ten since we were all so tired. Jehan will be in the stables, I will be in the sun room (it's at the end of the hall) and that priest of yours will be in the garden. I had your new gown washed and pressed for you and it's hanging in your wardrobe. You can do whatever you like while we're waiting on breakfast._ (Elizabeth's initials were at the bottom.

She walked to the wardrobe and took out the dress. The scarlet and gold was beautiful…she gazed at the yards of fabric. This dress was more suited to a queen and not a common peasant than her. But…she sighed to herself, she'd just have to live with it.

One of the maids knocked on the door.

"The others have bathed already," she informed Esmeralda, "would you like some hot water brought in?"

"Yes, please," Esmeralda said, unaccustomed to being waited on. It didn't take long for them to get it there—there were three or four maids and two butlers. She would probably see the kitchen workers and the groundskeepers later.

It was heaven to finally have clean hot water to bathe with. She had never washed with anything but cold water all of her life, and most of her baths had been in the river. She even washed her hair and found the experience to be a joy now that the water wasn't icy. It took her some time to comb all the snarls and tangles out, but she did. As it dried, it began to shine softly. She slid into the new undergarments first, feeling sleek and new. Then, with a maid's help, she got into the gown. The maid laced up her corset and drew the strings until it was nice and tight but not uncomfortable.

"You look lovely, my lady," the maid gushed, "that man will never be able to stop looking at you."

Esmeralda flushed a little. Eager to be off the subject of her and Claude, she asked what the maid's name was.

"My name is Masha," she said, "I came from Russia as a babe. The others are Mary, Anne, Catherine, Jane, Edward, and Henry…the last two are butlers. The rest usually keep to themselves. We haven't had anyone to work for in several months—it will be good to have masters of the house again. We were all afraid we'd lose our jobs."

Esmeralda felt a tiny ray of pride. She had saved an entire household and she didn't even know it until now!

"You have such lovely hair," Masha commented, "how about we do something with it besides just leaving it down?"

She gradually gave Esmeralda an elaborate updo. The majority of her hair was pulled up, but a few curls had been permitted to frame her face and show off the heart-shape of it. After she'd put her shoes on, she was ready to go out and explore. She wasn't totally sure why, but she wanted to find "that priest of hers" as Elizabeth put it. She supposed the performance artist in her wanted to show off.

She came to the gardens and was examining the roses when a voice spoke to her.

"Be careful…it's easy to get lost out here."

She turned and her mouth almost fell open. Claude had appeared from around the corner, but she hardly recognized him. Instead of his robes, he wore dark gray pants that were very form-fitting. The boots he wore came higher up on his calves than his old ones. The shirt was a simple cream-color and cut in a very flattering manner. He also had a very nice jacket that matched his pants. Elizabeth had done exactly what she said she would do: make the clothes to match the man instead of the clothes making the man. Claude had very simple tastes due to living as a monk for several years, but Elizabeth had polished that image perfectly.

Claude's breath had caught in his throat when he saw Esmeralda. He had hardly recognized her as well—she even carried herself differently. The skirts swished sensuously when she walked and the bright crimson flattered her pale skin. If it was possible, it made her eyes stand out more. Though her hair was dark, the gold on the dress complimented the golden highlights in her hair. This, he thought, she deserved to live like every day. Eve herself would have been quite jealous. Esmeralda even put all the roses behind her to shame.

"Elizabeth has really outdone herself," Esmeralda said awkwardly, searching for something to say.

"Yes, she has," Claude agreed.

He still carried a dagger with him. She stared at him in puzzlement when he unsheathed it. With a quick slice, he cut one of the roses loose and skinned all the thorns off.

"There is just one thing missing," he commented, tucking the rose into her hair.

His touch was very feather-light. She hardly even felt his fingers as the short stem of the rose brushed her scalp. The coolness of the plant tingled pleasantly against her warm skin and raised gooseflesh on her arms.

"There," he said, admiring his handiwork, "now you are perfect."

Suddenly, a piercing yell carried down to them.

"BREAKFAST!" Elizabeth yelled through cupped hands. She grinned knowingly at them.

Esmeralda hadn't realized how hungry she was until just then. Her stomach let out an embarrassing roar. She took consolation in the fact that Claude's also rumbled.

"It will be a nice change," Esmeralda heard herself saying as they walked, "from the inn food."

Claude chuckled. He wasn't one to complain against God's provision, but some of the food on their trip had been downright scary. At one place, there had been stew that came out of one's bowl in a solid, greasy mass if you let it cool and then tugged on the spoon. It would be nice to have a meal prepared by caring hands.

Esmeralda stepped wrong and almost fell. The moss-covered steps didn't mix well with her new shoes, for the soles were still quite slick. He caught her before she lost her balance completely.

"Pardon me," he excused himself before lifting her over those treacherous stairs. They had only just arrived: it would be a shame for her to fall and hurt herself. He knew she would want to explore the place from top to bottom.

"Thank you," she said awkwardly.

Elizabeth was waiting for them. She looked stunning as well in a gown of royal blue and white. Jehan wore clothing similar to Claude's, though the trim on his was much more garishly colored (red).

"I see that the dress fits you perfectly," Elizabeth commented, "I'm glad. Shall we?"

They all had to restrain themselves from running. The smells that filled the dining room were heavenly and they were all feeling ravenous. Esmeralda was secretly thrilled to see that there was the freshly baked bread with honey. There were also eggs, potatoes, sausage, and any other breakfast items they could think of. They could eat as much as they wanted, for there was more than plenty. Claude's belly wasn't accustomed to such rich food, so it felt a little strange. He knew it was best not to do anything strenuous until his stomach settled down. Having Esmeralda right there was also giving him butterflies.

Elizabeth was already talking about what things she was going to fix, but Esmeralda didn't really hear her. She was thinking about all the places she wanted to explore.

"Our family Bible is in the library, Claude," Elizabeth told him, "you may take it for yourself."

"Thank you," he said, genuinely grateful.

Esmeralda knew he would have plenty of sunny, beautiful places to read in now that they were far, far away from Paris.


	8. Chapter 8

The next week was devoted to adapting. Claude was noticeably absent for most of the day, only appearing at mealtimes. He would skirt the issue of where he'd been and what he was doing. Esmeralda decided to follow him one night.

She had to hoist up the skirt of her dress to keep it from rustling as she walked. She saw him disappear into a room in the middle of the hallway. Judging by this area, the hallway wasn't used often. The shades were always drawn and it had a dark, dusty smell. She waited for Claude to come out for a long time, but he didn't. Eventually, she got tired of waiting on him and left.

Later that night when everyone else was asleep, she crept out of bed. She knew she needed to stay there or risk a chill, but she couldn't sleep. She wanted desperately to know what his secret was. She tiptoed quietly past his room and made her way towards that hallway. To her dismay, the door was locked. She sighed…there _must_ be a key around here somewhere…

She searched the hallway, but none turned up. She realized, feeling foolish, that Claude probably had the key.

With the air of a curious child, she ventured towards the ex-archdeacon's room. Claude was in his bed, sleeping soundly. The door creaked a little when she nudged it open. Cringing, she waited.

He didn't wake.

She looked around. A silver skeleton key glowed on the bedside table. Cautiously, she inched towards it. Her heart nearly stopped when Claude rolled over, but he didn't appear to be awake. Her hand closed around the cool shaft of the key and she stared down at him.

His face was smooth and unconcerned in sleep. With his hair all mussed, he looked younger than he was. The faintest trace of stubble was growing over the tonsure. Once that intentional bald spot disappeared, he would look even younger. He was laying on his side with one arm flung out, the fingers slightly curled. It almost looked as though he reached out for someone…

She wondered why the compulsion to touch the warm palm of his hand suddenly bubbled up at the base of her mind. It faded as quickly as it came and she slipped quietly out of the room. She would return the key once she had seen what his secret was.

The door was resistant to open at first, but it finally gave in. Esmeralda couldn't see a thing; she had to light the lamp that sat on the small wooden table. She closed the door until only a tiny crack remained because she was afraid to shut it completely.

Then, she gasped.

This room was a small chapel. It was circular; she guessed it was part of the back of the house. Stained glass windows gleamed cleanly; a bucket of soapy water lingered nearby. The room had the conflicting smells of musty disuse and recent restoration. One side, she noticed, had been totally cleaned and all the broken furniture was in the process of being mended. There were pews there, but they weren't the straight pews that she was used to seeing. These were made in a semi-circle shape so that they would fit more people into this small space. The smell of freshly cut wood attracted her attention.

She leaned down. If you didn't look closely, you would never notice the new wooden leg on the old pew. The old, broken leg lay a short distance away. The repair had been so artfully done that it was easy to miss. She never would have figured Claude for a carpenter. Even the decorative carvings had been imitated so well that nothing looked out of place. The tools were neatly laid out on one of the pew seats.

Hmmm…

She could sort of understand. The chapel was his project; it made him feel less out of place. The Bible that Elizabeth had been speaking of sat on the polished podium. She recognized Claude's crucifix pendant laying on the open page. She also recognized a page with roughly drawn sketches and what she thought were measurements. Apparently, he was going to do more with this room than just fix up what was already there.

Then, suddenly, she wondered if she had done something wrong. She felt a little guilty for not asking his permission to come in here. She wondered why; he had not said she _couldn't_ come in here.

Deciding she'd stayed long enough, she put the lamp out and stole back down into the hallway. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized that Claude wasn't in his room.

_Uh-oh._

Had he noticed that his key was missing?

She wondered what to do. If she held onto the key, he would definitely know it was missing. If she tried to put it back, he might come back and find her there.

She supposed she'd try and put the key back.

She had no sooner gotten into his room than she heard a rustling of night clothes. Panicked, she flung herself under the bed and held very, very still.

She saw his bare feet appear and she hoped he wouldn't bend over for any reason. He didn't. There was a rustle and his feet disappeared; she heard the bed give just a little bit with his weight. It took him a few tries to get situated. She listened very, very carefully. His breath slowed after a while and became steady. Cautiously, she eased out from under the bed. Her hand was shaking as she tried to put the key back.

_Clink!_

The sound was overwhelmingly loud. She drew her hand back and curled up into a ball. She heard him grunt and sit up, trying to figure out what on earth had just happened. Eventually, he settled back down.

She was sure her heart would beat right out of her chest. She hoped he couldn't hear it.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard his breath slow and even out again.

_This is by far the most ridiculous situation I've ever gotten myself into…_she thought.

She crept out from under the bed and crawled all the way to the door.

_Creeeeak!_

Her heart _did_ seem to stop this time. Claude sat up, but she had already retreated into the shadows. He didn't realize it, but he was staring right at her. Shaking his head, he lay down again.

Esmeralda let out a breath she'd been holding. Then, she crept into her room and got in bed before there could be any more mishaps.

It took Claude a very long time to get to sleep. He'd been trying not to laugh the entire time. He hoped he'd faked it well enough.

He'd woken up when he'd heard her first come in. Sometimes he could be a very light sleeper, so he watched her through almost-closed eyes. He watched her take his key. Silent as death itself, he followed her.

He didn't get to see her reaction to his handiwork, but she seemed impressed when she came out of the small chapel he was restoring. Elizabeth's sketches lay in there and so did Jehan's tools. She was ever so careful to sneak back into his room…he grinned. He could have confronted her, but he chose not to. The most entertaining part was watching her hand snake out from under the bed and try to replace the key.

_Oh, Esmeralda…once a gypsy, always a gypsy,_ he thought, amused. He watched her crawl away and cringe when the door creaked.

_That silly girl…_

He was so amused…he didn't have the heart to chastise her or even show her that he knew. She just looked so cute…like a little girl stealing downstairs on Christmas morning. He had to resist the urge to grab her in the darkness and steal a kiss in the shadows.

That could wait. He had other plans for now. Elizabeth's house didn't have to be completely devoid of God's presence. He wanted them to use the small chapel, to be married there. He wasn't sure if he could still legally perform marriages, but he could always get someone who could. He had asked Elizabeth for the drawings "for curiosity's sake" of what the chapel had once looked like when it was properly maintained. He had pilfered a few of Jehan's tools from the shed one evening when the others had started on dinner. He was usually careful not to let anyone see where he was going. Apparently, he hadn't been careful enough…

Oh, well.


	9. Chapter 9

One dull and cloudy day, Esmeralda found herself wishing she had something to do. Just as she was about to go outside, the sky let loose with a torrent of rain. She wandered all over the house. How odd, she thought, that Claude and Jehan were both missing.

She finally found Elizabeth in the drawing room. Elizabeth wore a very unflattering brown smock over her dress and was thoroughly covered in paint. She whipped at the canvas with a palette knife with such intensity that Esmeralda wondered if she meant to slash it to pieces.

"Oh, hello," Elizabeth said, looking up, "wonderful day for painting, isn't it?"

A clap of thunder sounded from outside. Esmeralda wished she could be in the rose garden…oh, well, it couldn't be helped.

"Where did Jehan and Claude go?" Esmeralda asked.

"To town," Elizabeth answered, "they set out before sunrise."

"I would have liked to have gone," Esmeralda commented.

"So would I, but they insisted we stay here," Elizabeth said, "they were quite secretive about the whole thing."

"I see…"

Esmeralda sat down in a nearby chair. She was sure to stay a safe distance away from the flying droplets of paint.

Esmeralda could not think of what they were doing. They didn't really need anything—the repairs to the manor were coming along quite nicely, they all had nice new clothes, and the kitchen was well-stocked.

"I hope they're not in the middle of this storm," Elizabeth commented, "it will make Jehan curse like the devil himself. And I know that Claude won't like that."

"No…I suppose he won't. Has anyone else noticed he's been disappearing a lot recently?"

"Oh, yes. Jehan says he's working on a secret project and that he doesn't want to be disturbed. Jehan knows about it, but he refuses to tell me."

Esmeralda smiled guiltily.

"You know what it is, don't you?" Elizabeth said accusingly. Her brown eyes laughed more than anything.

"Yes…"

"Well, don't just sit there! Tell me!"

"It's the chapel…he's been restoring it. I found some of Jehan's tools, some of your drawings, and your Bible there."

Elizabeth chuckled.

"I only gave him those drawings to satisfy a curiosity he expressed when he asked how it used to look. I never dreamed he would actually attempt to make them real. I suspected as much…I could smell freshly cut wood sometimes."

Esmeralda told her about sneaking into Claude's room to snatch the key and almost getting caught. Elizabeth was very amused by this.

"I can't believe you did that…I never thought you'd be sneaking into _his_ room," she confessed, "that must have taken a lot of nerve on your part."

"I'd have been mortified if I'd been caught," Esmeralda confessed, "I was scared."

"I don't know whatever for…Claude seems to lack the ability to be angry with you, at least for more than a moment."

She paused, putting her brush down.

"Let's go look at it!"

Elizabeth quickly removed her smock, gloves, and hat. They went tearing down the hallway to Claude's room only to find that the key was gone.

"Rats! He must have taken it with him!"

Esmeralda shook her head. The archdeacon sometimes did dumb things, but he was a smart man. He would probably have figured out something was amiss and that they couldn't be trusted with the key.

She sighed.

"Oh, well…it's a shame you can't see it. The stained glass windows have all been cleaned and I'll bet they're beautiful in the daytime. The wood is shining and clean and the broken leg on one of the pews has been replaced. It looks as though he's constructing a shelf in the back as well."

She stopped at Elizabeth's smug expression.

"You seem rather impressed," Elizabeth teased, "it could be that he's building a little more than a shelf."

Esmeralda suddenly realized what she was implying and shook her head.

"I was just…surprised…that's all…I never knew that he could build things."

They left Claude's room before the fumes from Elizabeth's paint could permeate the air too much.

"He's a very educated man," Elizabeth informed her, "Jehan told me so. He's studied Greek, Latin, Hebrew, some forms of science, literature…you name it, he's touched it. About the only thing he doesn't know how to do is make love."

Shocked again at Elizabeth's bluntness, Esmeralda's mouth fell open.

"How…how would you know that?" she asked, turning scarlet.

Elizabeth seemed untroubled by what she had just revealed.

"I overheard him talking to Jehan by accident. Jehan wanted to know why you were so careful around him and Claude informed Jehan that he wasn't nearly as much of a threat to you as he made you believe. Naturally, he seemed quite ashamed of himself when he said so…he feels very guilty for frightening you to this day."

A strange cocktail of emotions was pooling in Esmeralda's heart: pity for Claude, anger at him, and something else she didn't have a name for.

"In fact, he was very careful _not_ to learn," Elizabeth continued, "he believes that's what saved you both the trouble."

Esmeralda did not know what to think.

"It's quite an adjustment for him to make," Elizabeth said, getting off of such an embarrassing subject at last, "for him to be in the midst of this world when he spent so much time preparing for the next. He seems rather exhausted at times. At least he and Jehan aren't arguing so much anymore. Do you know that he still wears that old cross under his shirt? He's shortened the chain so that it lies right next to his heart."

That didn't surprise Esmeralda in the least. She thought about the metal crucifix, the image of a suffering Jesus forever frozen, but warmed by the heat from Claude's skin. A strange twisting happened in her middle as she imagined touching the cross and finding it warm from his heart.

"I saw the both of you when he put the rose into your hair as well," Elizabeth pointed out, "you should have seen the look on your face!"

"I was surprised," Esmeralda commented.

Elizabeth only grinned.

"I have a secret that even Jehan hasn't figured out yet. It would even the score, so to speak."

"What?" Esmeralda asked.

"I'm going to have his child."

She stared.

"That's right…he finally got me after all those years of nothing," Elizabeth commented, "but he won't be able to tell for some time. I'm naturally larger, so I won't show as much."

"Why aren't you going to tell him?" Esmeralda asked.

Elizabeth shrugged.

"He'll figure it out eventually…besides, what's the fun in that?"

"But…how did you know?"

Elizabeth's eyes twinkled.

"One just knows," she said, shrugging, "that and I haven't felt good in the mornings. I don't vomit, but it takes plenty of willpower and prayer. Normally, I can't get breakfast fast enough. I've been having some odd dreams lately as well…dreams about babes."

Esmeralda couldn't help but hug her. Elizabeth hugged back.

"I do hope it's a girl," she commented, "because the world does not need another Jehan!"

Esmeralda laughed.

"So, when will you tell him?"

"If he doesn't figure it out in a reasonable amount of time, I will. I don't want Claude knowing—he might let it slip."

"I give you my word."

"You know…I think you and Claude would make pretty babies."

"Don't start that again!"

"What? You know it's true! Can you imagine one with those big, blue eyes the color of the ocean? And that round, soft face?"

Esmeralda buried her face in her hands, but she was laughing. The image in her head was quite absurd. She imagined Claude holding a child that looked just like him, the baby grabbing hold of the crucifix he wore and popping it into his small mouth.

"I think I hear something…" Elizabeth said, looking out the window in the hallway.

"They're back!"

The two women walked downstairs despite the urge to run, though they weren't sure why they wanted to run.

Both men were definitely a sight…they were both soaked to the skin and splashed with mud.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked through peals of laughter.

"It's a very long story…" Jehan began. Claude sent him a pointed look.

"The carriage got stuck," Claude interrupted, "it took all of us to get it loose. I told him we should have gone a different day, but does he listen? Of course not!"

"If I listened to you, the whole world would wonder if I'd gone mad," Jehan teased, "anyway…I suppose the two of us could use a bath and a change of clothes. We'll show you what we brought afterward."

His blue-green eyes twinkled when he looked at Esmeralda. The two men grinned conspiratorially and went upstairs.

"Now, what do you suppose…?" Elizabeth wondered out loud.


	10. Chapter 10

"Is this really necessary?" Esmeralda asked, one hand reaching up to touch the cloth that was tied over her eyes.

"Just trust me," he told her.

She was forced to. He guided her forward with his hands on her shoulders. They seemed to going an awfully long way, but one always thinks that when they don't know where they're going.

After about five minutes had passed, there was the warm scent of straw and dust. It was only drizzling outside now.

"Is it much further?" she asked.

"A few steps more," he said right next to her ear.

She continued until he stopped her.

"Stay right here and don't lift the cloth until I tell you to," he warned.

"All right," she sighed.

She could hear him whispering to Jehan. After a couple of minutes, he lifted the cloth.

"You may look now," he said smugly.

Esmeralda gasped.

"_Luna!_"

Sure enough, the filly stood at her mother's side. She was not yet old enough to wean, but they were both here!

"But…Captain Phoebus…" was all Esmeralda could sputter out.

"Ah…Claude talked me out of it," Jehan sighed, "_never_ argue with a priest! You're sure to lose."

Esmeralda could only stare at Claude in surprise.

"We've had this planned since we came here," he said, "that's why I made myself scarce. I was afraid I would let it slip. Jehan made arrangements to have them brought up as soon as possible."

"But…surely that got expensive," Esmeralda commented, "with the loss of a sale and with keeping them sheltered and cared for and…"

She stopped, having just remembered that it was bad manners for women to talk about money.

"Never mind that," Claude said with gentleness and firmness at the same time, "it's taken care of."

Esmeralda opened her mouth to object.

"Well…I wonder if we should send Luna and Lily back to France," Jehan commented, "it appears that Esmeralda doesn't want them here."

She turned to face him.

"No! That's not at all what I meant!" she yelped, embarrassed.

Claude turned around, his hands just barely touching both shoulders. He could not have held her more firmly in place if he'd used an iron grip.

"Luna is a gift, Esmeralda. When she is fully-grown and trained, she will be completely yours."

His tone of voice sounded almost like he was addressing a child.

It was there in the barn that she hugged him for the second time. Elizabeth had made an appearance and she stood with her arm wrapped around Jehan's lanky waist.

"Well, well…and men accuse women of keeping secrets!" she playfully scolded Jehan.

In that moment, Claude's body felt too small to contain the sudden flood of joy he felt. The shine in Esmeralda's eyes and the brilliance in her smile was by far the greatest treasure she could have given him. It had dawned on her that he had paid for Luna himself. It had cost him all the money he had, but it was well worth it. He would find a way to pay Jehan back later on. Besides, Jehan had sold him the filly at a much lower price than he would have to Captain Phoebus.

"Thank you," she managed to choke out. Luna reached her small nose out curiously to investigate Esmeralda's stretched out hand. Claude was still dizzy and euphoric, the pressure from her arms still imprinted on him. He and Jehan exchanged warm glances; Jehan seemed to be enjoying the moment almost as much as he was.

In Esmeralda's opinion, Luna was even more beautiful now than she had been at first. Her legs were straighter now and she didn't seem clumsy at all. Her white hair had grown a little more thickly over her rosy skin and her eyes seemed brighter. She even managed to pet Luna for a moment. Eventually, Luna got bored and went back to her mother. Lily, as the white mare was called, was nosing around in the straw for dropped grain.

"I do not know how to ride," Esmeralda admitted guiltily.

"You have plenty of time to learn," Elizabeth reminded her.

Claude's imagination stole him from the "real world" for a moment. He imagined what Esmeralda would look like riding Luna when she was fully grown. The two of them would both put the sun, the flowers, and the rest of God's creation to shame as they galloped in the sunlight. He was certain he'd done the right thing, even if there was a tiny bit of self-indulgence on his part. He'd wanted to make her happy, wanted her to look at him in adoration.

He was actually surprised it had turned out this wonderful

Getting Luna and Lily here was no easy task whatsoever. There had been all sorts of things that could have gone wrong along the way: Jehan's friends might have kept the horses for themselves, they could have gotten lost, sick, or injured, they could have been stolen by thieves and highway men….there were so many possibilities. Upon finding out that Lily and Luna were safely in town, they discussed the best way to get them home. Deciding that Lily was fine to walk by herself, they'd wrestled Luna into the back of a wagon box. That was what had gotten them all splattered with mud: Luna disliked being hoisted up by five or six men and she'd thrashed and squealed bloody murder. Lily had gotten very agitated and was very unhappy. While Claude and Jehan had gone into the house to bathe, a couple of boys from town washed both horses until they shone like snow again for a few extra coins. Then, they hastily retreated as they were asked. All of those who had sheltered and cared for the horses along the way were handsomely compensated so that they wouldn't be tempted to be dishonest. It was a long shot for sure, but they'd somehow miraculously pulled it off.

As if realizing he had been thinking about all that, Esmeralda finally turned her attention back to Claude.

"How did you do it?" she asked curiously.

"That will remain my secret for now," Claude said, "but suffice it to say that it's a very long story and that God was on our side the entire time."

Knowing it would be useless to push him further, she could only nod graciously.

_I daresay she hasn't had much practice in accepting gifts,_ Claude thought, _but she will eventually get better at it._

He had wanted to do something special for her since realizing she was his. After his disastrous attempts to get her to want him in Paris, he knew he would have to go about it another way. After his quarrel with Elizabeth in the kitchen shortly afterward, he realized he had been quite selfish. But what did he have to offer her? She didn't seem to be the materialistic type at all. It wasn't until he saw how she'd looked at Luna that he knew: Luna would make an excellent gift. He would have to win Esmeralda's heart a little at a time by showing her that he cared about what she cared about.

"Well, then," Jehan said warmly, "I would imagine these two are exhausted from their journey. We really should let them rest. In the meantime, I don't mind telling you all that I'm as hungry as a wolf."

Everyone laughed when his stomach rumbled. Claude was feeling a bit empty as well. After Jehan filled the feedbox and brought Lily some water to drink, they were situated for the night. Her stall had been taken care of last night; clean, fresh straw had been spread out already. They had everything they needed.

As they walked back to the house, a second storm loomed ahead. The sky had not yet let loose the rain, but a low rumble of thunder echoed around them.

"Goodness…I wonder if it's going to rain all night," Elizabeth commented.

"Possibility," Jehan answered, "but it can rain all it wants now!"

Though the air was getting chilly, they were all glowing warm from the day's events. Very, very cautiously, Claude's fingers grazed Esmeralda's hand. He almost had a heart-attack when her fingers closed around his and gave them a squeeze.


	11. Chapter 11

Elizabeth was much more no-nonsense than Esmeralda ever realized. Most women would drop hints at first, but not her. While they were all in the midst of dinner, she just came right out and said it.

"I'm pregnant," she said as casually as if she were talking about the weather.

The bite Claude had scooped up on his fork fell back onto the plate with a plop.

"PHHHHHH!" Jehan didn't mean to, but he spat the drink he'd just taken everywhere. He coughed violently for a couple of seconds, then fanned his reddening face.

"I beg your pardon, darling, I must have misheard you. What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant," Elizabeth repeated.

Jehan stared at her, his blue-green eyes widening.

"How?"

Elizabeth looked at him as if he were the biggest fool on the earth.

"Well, it might have been when you-"

She trailed off upon seeing Claude's stern look.

"Anyway, I have all the signs," she answered.

"But…we've been together for so long…" Jehan said, tone heavy with disbelief, "how is it that it didn't happen until now?"

"Well, there might be a number of things," Elizabeth said calmly, "for one, it could be that we weren't careful and it was the wrong time of month to…well, you know. And it could be that things are going better for us now than they ever have. It could also be that the air of my homeland agrees with me better. Or…maybe it's because I am doomed to stay with you for the rest of my life and God laughed in my face."

At first, they all thought she was annoyed with Jehan, but the sparkle in her eyes said she was being a smart-aleck. Jehan's laughter rumbled through the room.

"Do you hear that? I'm going to be a FATHER!"

He was laughing hysterically, probably from a mixture of shock, joy, and love. Claude couldn't help but smile. Esmeralda was giggling from Elizabeth's expression.

"At the very least," Elizabeth sighed, "I won't have to wear corsets for much longer!"

They stayed up much later than they should have, but they couldn't stop talking about the day's events. Eventually, they did all part ways and go to bed.

Esmeralda, however, had difficulty sleeping. The thunder got so loud that it kept jerking her awake. Normally, she didn't mind thunderstorms, but this was getting on her nerves. After a while, she gave up trying to sleep and left her bed. Clutching her lit candle in one hand, she braved the cold.

The house seemed huge in the darkness. This time, at least, she wasn't trying to sneak about in it. She was just wandering aimlessly when she bumped into someone else. Her surprised yelp was loud enough to wake the dead.

"Easy, it's only me," Claude's voice whispered in the dark, "what are you doing up at this hour?"

Esmeralda's hand clutched her pounding heart.

"Who could sleep through all this noise?" she asked. Right on cue, a clap of thunder shook the house.

"Anyway, I could ask you the same question," she responded.

"Same answer," Claude replied.

They stood together at the window, watching the storm ravage the land outside.

"Did you like my chapel?"

Esmeralda blushed furiously.

"What are you talking about?" she asked as innocently as she could.

"The key was sitting almost right in the middle of the table when I placed it there," Claude said, "and then…I heard it clink and I woke to find it almost about to fall off of the edge."

Esmeralda cringed and looked at the floor.

"I just wondered what you were doing all day when you'd disappear," she admitted guiltily.

She couldn't really tell what that expression was…amused, perhaps?

"Well, Jehan and Elizabeth will need a place to be married. And Jehan's always been rather flighty when it comes to churches. I thought he would be more comfortable here."

Esmeralda nodded.

"I also must confess that I was feeling a little homesick. The chapel reminds me a little of Notre Dame."

She hadn't thought of that…in all the time that they had been away from Paris, it never occurred to her that he would miss the cathedral so much.

"What else are you going to do with it?" she asked.

"There will be some shelves in the back," he said, "and a new altar."

She didn't think twice about following him to his room. Before they had left, Esmeralda wouldn't have gone anywhere alone with him willingly. He retrieved the silver key and they walked side by side down the hallway.

"It will be a while yet before the work's finished, but there's a little time before the baby comes," Claude informed her. He unlocked the door and let her in first since she held the candle.

It hadn't changed a great deal since she'd seen it last, but the shelves were slowly beginning to appear. Claude passed the old Bible on the way; Esmeralda noticed that his crucifix necklace wasn't there anymore. She suspected he still wore it sometimes. Her confirmation came when she saw a shining streak on the back of his neck from the chain.

"You've done so much for me…given up so much," Esmeralda murmured.

He turned his head and she realized that she'd spoken those words out loud. Guilt was beginning to blossom inside her…she began to see that he had actually been trying very hard to make things right. She'd been grateful, but she felt a little neglectful toward him.

"I have actually given very little," he told her, sitting beside her on the pew, "if I had allowed you to die for what I'd done, my life would have absolutely no meaning at all. The scriptures, the way of life I'd chosen, the rituals…they would have all been empty and meaningless—mere deceptions. What was there to look forward to, really? Those few hours when I believed you to be dead were the absolute worst I've ever experienced."

"I thought you wanted me gone so that I wouldn't tempt you," Esmeralda commented.

Her words stung him and he actually winced.

"Words cannot express how wrong I was to think that," he lamented, "it's a coward's way of thinking, to blame others for my own mistakes."

He recounted the events of that fateful day from his perspective: how he'd stood by the river and mourned the loss of her as well as himself, how his annoying assistant and another lay clergy member had come to retrieve him. He told her about his annoyance at Quasimodo when he persisted in "showing him something important" and his awe and disbelief that she was still alive. Unlike before, she did not cringe or look away from him.

Claude felt a streak of embarrassment at pouring his heart so openly out to her. In a lot of ways, it sounded more like he was at confession.

"I know I cannot undo the wrongs I've done," he finally said, emotionally exhausted, "but I had but one desire left: to make sure that you were never put through that again. I didn't want you to suffer by my hand anymore, or anyone else's if I could help it."

He bowed his head slightly, feeling as though he'd just fasted for a week. His body was weak and trembling.

"I forgive you," she said quietly.

Claude could have sworn his heart stopped beating as her hand brushed against his.

"Paris is behind us," she said, voice slightly stronger, "it won't do us any good to dwell on what happened there."

Funny…he had never viewed Esmeralda as being particularly learned or intelligent, but for all his years of study and self-discipline, her wisdom exceeded his tremendously in that moment.

"You're different here," she commented, "I never once saw you laugh or smile until you left the cathedral. I feel as though I'm getting more acquainted with you as opposed to your title. The archdeacon of Josas was a cold, austere man seared by his own unexpected passion…whereas Claude Frollo seems to be much more considerate to others and closer to God than the archdeacon ever was."

It was the strangest thing, he thought, to be seen as two very different men when he had always thought there was only one of him. Things had progressed so slowly, so awkwardly…and yet, each new experience made it easier. It was like a healing wound: everything was slow and painful at first, but the body gradually regained its grace and function.

He didn't dare ask anything too taxing or too impossible of her, but one possibility came to mind:

"We are…friends, then?"

"Friends," she agreed.

The old grandfather clock down the hall chimed three in the morning. The storm seemed to have calmed down somewhat; it hadn't gone away entirely. The bolts of lightning were less sinister and the thunder less ominous. It was time to go back to bed.

Without a word, they rose from their sitting place and Esmeralda realized how cold she was. Claude offered his dressing gown, but Esmeralda shook her head.

"It is only a little way," she said politely, "and I'll be warm soon enough after I get under the covers."

He nodded. They parted ways for the rest of the night.

Elizabeth and Jehan grinned at each other.

"Aren't you always the one who tells me it's wrong to spy on people?" she asked him.

"He spied on us once when I asked you to marry me," Jehan said, "now, we're even."


	12. Chapter 12

Esmeralda was outside near the stables with Luna. Small brush in hand, she was teaching the young filly not to be afraid of her and that she would love her and care for her. The melody she sung was soothing; a gypsy lullaby. Luna had grown in the last couple of months and she was no longer afraid of people.

That's why Claude almost broke down when he saw her.

She knew something was wrong the instant he reached her. His face was gray and his blue-green eyes were dark with concern.

"What's the matter?" she demanded when she saw him.

"Go inside and stay with Elizabeth," he said, voice heavy, "Jehan and I need to go fetch the doctor."

She put the brush down and hurried toward the house with him.

"Is Elizabeth all right? Claude, what's wrong? Tell me!"

Under any normal circumstances, her using his given name would have lifted him to the heavens. But now, he only felt more sober.

"We think she might lose the child," he lamented, "she was at the top of the stairs and one of the servants said something to her. Then, she took a misstep and fell on her stomach. I must warn you, there's a lot of blood…"

He couldn't bring himself to continue. He no longer had to urge her to hurry, for she had let go of his hand and flat-out ran towards the house.

Elizabeth had been moved into a nearby bedroom; Jehan didn't even waste time carrying her to their own room. He was badly frightened and tears were flowing down his face. Elizabeth was glassy-eyed and seemed not to notice any of them. She was pleading with God to let her and the baby live, to let them both be all right. Her hands were clenched over her belly and a river of blood had stained her skirts. Jehan turned and ran from the room.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Claude whispered to Esmeralda, "try to calm her down while I'm gone…"

And he was gone, too.

Esmeralda's stomach began to tremble. She looked at the poor, wailing woman on the bed. She didn't even resemble the strong and confident woman she'd come to know as Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, please, calm down," she begged, "you'll make it worse if you don't stop screaming."

She was lying, she knew, but she couldn't bear Elizabeth's terrified shrieks. They made it impossible for her to think straight. Once Elizabeth was quieter, Esmeralda began to tug the stained dress off. She knew how to staunch the bleeding, but she didn't know much else. She just knew that the sight of blood made people (including her) panic and it needed to go away. She tried to stop the bleeding and wiped away the blood on Elizabeth's legs. The woman was very much in pain and mumbling incoherently. Between the statements that didn't make any sense, Esmeralda knew that Elizabeth was having contractions. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, because she knew now that it was too late.

When the pain reached its absolute worst, Esmeralda tried not to cry; Elizabeth was crying enough for both of them. A small, bloody mass of flesh emerged from Elizabeth's body. Esmeralda could just make out the arms and legs that had still been forming. She tried to keep Elizabeth from seeing it, but that didn't work out.

Elizabeth stared at it, grief-stricken.

"No…" she whispered, in complete despair, "no…you were supposed to live…you were mine…mine and Jehan's…"

She snatched the tiny cloth-wrapped bundle out of Esmeralda's hands and hugged it to her chest. Esmeralda looked up to see Claude, the doctor, and Jehan in the doorway. Jehan promptly turned white in the face and ran away. Down the hall, she could hear him retch. The doctor's face was sympathetic as he pried the small bundle out of Elizabeth's arms. She let him do it, her arms sagging weakly to her sides.

"Please go outside," he told Esmeralda, "I need to examine her and make sure there's nothing left inside her womb. We don't want an infection on top of this."

Esmeralda numbly obeyed.

Claude placed his arm around her and guided her out of that awful room. She shook with silent tears, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Oh, Claude! It was horrible! Poor Elizabeth! The poor baby!" she sobbed.

He rubbed her back in small circles.

"We found him as fast as we could," Claude told her, "he was tending to an old man who'd had a fit with his heart. He didn't make it, either."

Two souls would be entering Heaven tonight, he thought, one very old and one who had never seen the light of day.

"Let's check on Jehan," Claude whispered.

It wasn't until then that she realized there were tears on his cheeks, too. He wiped at them with his sleeve.

Jehan was at the top of the stairs, sobbing. The servants had already come to clean up the vomit and were now leaving to allow the grieving family some time alone. He was unable to speak and seemed to fall apart more when Claude embraced him.

Esmeralda saw the doctor come out and went to see him.

"I gave her something to make her sleep," he explained, "she is to have one spoonful of this if she should wake. I want her to rest so that her body will heal. Gravity will make the bleeding start again, so she is not to leave that bed unless it's absolutely necessary."

He pushed a glass bottle into Esmeralda's hand.

"Where can I find her husband?"

Esmeralda pointed.

The three men conversed for a moment. She heard something about "bury the baby". Then, the doctor left.

She carried the small bundle, wrapped more tightly so as not to expose the half-formed nightmare that lay within. Jehan broke down again, so it was up to Claude to dig the grave. He prayed in hushed tones for the lost infant, then lay it in the hole. He was so used to performing funerary rites that he went through all the motions without thinking. He cast a handful of earth into the grave. Esmeralda did, too.

Reluctantly, and moving like an old man, Jehan tossed his handful of damp earth into the hole. Whimpering and sniffing, he helped Claude cover the grave and smooth the earth down over the top. Right about then, the leaden gray sky began to let loose with a cold rain. The three of them stayed outside for a long time, getting soaked to the skin. Reluctantly, wet and covered in mud, they went inside.

Claude had just finished bathing and was pulling his nightgown over his head when Esmeralda burst into the room. He stared at her in surprise, clad only in her chemise.

"Tell me about Heaven," she demanded.

"Come sit by the fire," he told her, "I don't want you to catch a chill."

He draped his own dressing gown around her shoulders and she obeyed. Sitting in the other chair, he wondered how he was going to get past his distraction. Her dark curls were still damp and her skin was still rosy from the warm water.

"What would you like to know?" he asked gently.

"What is Heaven like? What kind of place will that baby go to? And the old man? Where are we all going?"

It was a good question…sometimes he wondered that himself.

"Well…everyone's idea of Heaven is different," he explained, "none of us have gone there and come back. We know a few things about it from the Bible, that our Lord reigns there and that we will see Him upon our deaths. Jesus is also there. There are angels…messengers of God…and the souls of those who came before us. They are the ones who were faithful by loving God and loving others. We know that the very best didn't even necessarily die first, that they were simply taken before the flesh withered away completely."

"What else?"

"There is no pain, no suffering, no sickness, no darkness. Everything is filled with light and song, for who could be unhappy in a place like that?"

Esmeralda nodded.

"I wonder if my mother's there," she commented.

He was puzzled.

"What happened to her?"

"She must have died a long time ago," Esmeralda said, "all I have to remember her by is this shoe that she must have made for me."

She left for a moment and came back with a pink satin baby slipper.

"The woman who raised me said if I found the other one that I would know who my mother is."

Claude examined the small thing. He was certain he'd seen it before, but he couldn't remember where. His fingers danced over the beading, admiring the person's handiwork. Try as he might, he just couldn't place where he'd seen it.

"She must have been a very skilled seamstress," Claude commented, "it doesn't look as though a single one of the beads has come off."

"I wonder if Elizabeth—" Esmeralda trailed off.

Claude looked up at her questioningly.

"I was only going to say that I wonder if Elizabeth planned to make something like this," Esmeralda commented, "she was only three months along…but I know she wanted it."

Claude nodded sympathetically.

"Her heart will heal eventually," he assured Esmeralda, "it's just going to take time and we'll all have to be patient with her."

Esmeralda leaned in close as if to tell him a secret.

"Is it wrong of me to wish the baby had stayed? I mean, I'm glad that it went somewhere good, but I wish Elizabeth and Jehan could have kept it…they're both so upset right now…"

"That's perfectly normal," Claude told her, "you don't like to see them so sad."

They listened to the rain beat against the glass and hoped that Jehan would be all right. They could still hear his sobbing from down the hallway.


	13. Chapter 13

The days slowly turned to weeks. Elizabeth grew stronger each day, but she also seemed to grow even more bitter. She would disappear into her drawing room for hours on end and made it clear that she didn't want anyone's company, especially not Jehan's.

Jehan was heart-broken. He spent all of his time out in the stables with his horses because Elizabeth clearly wanted nothing to do with him. Every time he touched her or tried to be affectionate, she would strike him. Esmeralda actually saw her backhand him once. He never fought back, never protested once. He'd rubbed the red mark on his cheek and slunk away.

Claude, sensing that something was very wrong, went to talk to Jehan one day.

The scene that unfolded before him just made him sad. The stench of alcohol was heavy in the air. An empty bottle was laying in the straw. Jehan lay slumped against one of the stall doors, snoring loudly.

"Jehan…"

Claude gently shook him awake.

"What do you want?" Jehan slurred, speech heavy with sleep and drunkenness.

"Jehan, you have to pull yourself together. You're going to be a husband soon."

"No, I'm not," he said casually, "Elizabeth wants me to leave."

"Why?" Claude asked, kneeling next to him.

"She says that all this was my fault and she can't even stand to look at me. I'm going back to Paris when I sell another horse."

"You're not going anywhere," Claude said firmly, "you've done _nothing_ wrong."

"I did, Claude, I did…" Jehan protested, "she told me not to fall in love with her, you know…and I did. Do you know what she was before I found her?"

"An heiress, obviously," Claude commented.

"No…after that. She was a whore, Claude. I was her first customer. She's already lost a child before…she believed it to be another man's. She thought she lost it because she didn't love the man and secretly wished the child would die. She got her wish and never had to reveal her secret to anyone. She only told me because she was desperate to talk to someone. I told her I wanted her to stay with me and to stop doing those things for her living. Her father had disowned her because he caught her making love to a man, but the dolt was dumb enough not to change his will. I thank God every day for that…but she told me not to fall in love with her because she always wanted her freedom. And I fell in love with her. And now she hates me for it…"

He trailed off, tears coming to his eyes.

"I love her, Claude! I want to marry her in the worst way! I want to know I've done _something _right! I don't want her to have to sell her body again, ever! I can't stand the thought of another man _touching_ her! Oh, Claude…how can I live with myself knowing I hurt her?"

He collapsed in a pool of sobs. Claude sympathetically clutched his younger brother to his chest just as he'd done when Jehan was a small child.

"It's the grief talking, Jehan," Claude said gently, "she's just hurting and she'll take it out on everyone close to her for a little while. We all have to be patient…losing a child is a very difficult thing for anyone to go through. The last thing in the world she needs is for you to leave her."

"What can I do, Claude? I can't bear for her to look at me with eyes as cold as daggers," Jehan lamented.

"Do you want me to talk to her? Or Esmeralda?"

"Please! Anything!"

"All right. We'll see what we can do. Keep in mind that getting yourself drunk isn't going to make you look any better in her eyes."

Jehan nodded and suppressed a hiccup.

"Go get washed up. It's almost time for dinner. Starving yourself isn't going to help her," Claude said, pulling his "big brother" tone. Jehan almost smiled and brushed the straw off of his clothing.

_Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?_ Claude wondered.

He trudged back to the house. On his way out, he spotted the grave and crossed himself automatically.

_I hope you're enjoying Heaven, dear one…you never had to worry about your innocence being stolen from you even once._

He knelt next to the grave, resting his arms on top of the headstone and prayed. The sun was going down, washing the world in rosy and orange tones. The wind whispered around him. His cheek rested against the cool stone as he begged God to intervene. Elizabeth had been acting like a savage lately, but he knew it wasn't normally in her nature: she was hurting badly, he could see. Her former living had made her wary of trust and she was scared of being happy because it would be stolen from her.

Unknown to him, he was being watched.

In the dim glow of the ebbing sunlight, Elizabeth was painting furiously. Rows of half-finished paintings lined the floors and were propped against walls to dry. The image appeared rapidly on the medium-sized canvas. In the background, the glorious sunset was situated just so that the glow almost seemed to be coming from Claude himself. Though her eyes appeared dead in the looking glass, she was still very much aware of the rest of the world that had gone on without her.

But Claude did not appear in her painting in his English clothes. He appeared in his priest's robes.

After she'd roughed in the outlines and basic shapes, she asked one of the servants to bring her food up here since she was working. Then, she began to fill in some of the details.

Night had fallen and she would have been painting in the dark if the servant hadn't been conscientious enough to light some candles for her. There was a knock on the door.

"What do you want?" she asked irritably, her hand never stopping and her eyes never looking away.

Claude poked his head in the door.

"I saw one of the maids come up here," he said casually, "I was curious as to what you were working on."

Elizabeth did look up then, her dark eyes looking like black abysses. She couldn't figure out whether this was a trick or not…but it was the first time that someone hadn't tried to urge her to come out of the room.

"You may come in. Close the damn door."

He obeyed without commenting on her swearing. She went back to mixing colors. Claude came to stand by her right shoulder.

"That's me?" he asked, stunned.

"I don't know another man of the church," Elizabeth commented snippily.

He studied the painting. This had happened not more than an hour ago…

"Is it all I'll ever be? A priest…" he wondered out loud without realizing it.

"You misunderstand, sir. You can cast off your robes all you want, but it's still quite obvious…your faith in your God isn't easily hidden."

Her expression was no longer hard, but now troubled.

"I believed in God once," she said in a shadowy voice, "…I believed that He'd given me Jehan so that I didn't have to keep degrading myself. Then…"

She trailed off. The only sound was the paintbrush sloshing in the water.

"Sometimes I think I catch glimpses of Him," she commented, "as though He doesn't intend for me to see Him, but I turn my head at just the right moment before He disappears again and everything becomes ordinary."

Claude nodded, listening.

"I can show you," she said, rising from her chair. She led him over to a row of paintings that weren't finished yet. One by one, she held them up for him to see. He wished the light was better; maybe he could get her to show him again in the daylight.

"I had a day off," she explained, "and I went for a walk in the woods. I saw this waterfall, and the rocks there. For one wonderful moment, they made the shape of a man's body. But not just any man…a very powerful man with rippling muscles and capable hands. I'd never seen a form like this even with all the men that visited me."

In the side of the rocky hill, Claude could see the unclothed form of a man shaded just so that you really had to look to find it. It appeared as though the waterfall was coming out of one outstretched hand. He nodded, very impressed.

There were several more such paintings…some held only hands and arms, others had full bodies. Some had the form of Jesus or the cross, some had a dove form. One of his favorites was a cluster of clouds during a violent storm that looked like angels sending the sparks of lightning to each other.

"These are quite good…" he commented, "I wouldn't have thought to look in all of these places."

"I never looked," Elizabeth corrected him, "it just happened. But now…I can't see Him anywhere. There's nothing but emptiness."

It was then that Claude understood—she had lost more than just the baby. Elizabeth was feeling flat and uninspired and the recent paintings had been fruitless toils.

"May I ask you a question, Elizabeth?"

She shrugged and replaced the paintings.

"Have you ever thought that the reason you aren't seeing Him might be because you've shut yourself in so much and not allowing new things to be discovered?"

She looked at him and he could see the wall going up in her mind, but he continued anyway.

"Jehan loves you, Elizabeth. He needs you. You weren't the only one to lose the baby…he lost it as well. He's feeling very alone right now because you're the only other one who understands the loss and you won't let him in."

"I can't stand to look at him," Elizabeth spat, "it hurts too much. Every time I see him, I imagine this little face in my mind that looks like his."

"It won't always be like that," Claude said in his 'priest soothing the ruffled feathers' voice, "you have to give it a chance to pass on its own."

"You don't understand, Claude…do you know why all of my family is dead?"

He shook his head.

"Because they were weak. They didn't know when to cast out the problem-causers. They let everyone and everything here walk all over them. They're the reason I left England. I was in love once before Jehan and I don't regret giving myself to that man. He was killed later in a duel. I wanted my child dead because I never wanted reminders of him around. A few weeks later, I got my wish and I hadn't had to do anything but hope. My family expected me to act like a silly little girl, only studying things that made me more attractive in polite company. They wanted me to be dressed up like a doll and never speak and never be myself. My mother was furious when she found out that my tutor was secretly giving me art lessons. Painting wasn't ladylike, she said, but I never stopped. My father burned all of my paintings, so I started to hide them. When I became pregnant, I was cast out of the house. I never told anyone else about the child but Jehan. He liked me and I liked him. Sometimes, he would pay just so that he could stay and talk to me. Knowing I wasn't going to be pleased with ordinary trinkets, he brought me paints and brushes and other such things. He paid the artist very well to make the items I asked for and I'm sure it cost him dearly, but it was his way of showing me that he cared about all of me, not just the region between my thighs. He was the first man to do that."

For a few minutes, the hard, cold veil of grief lifted and Claude could see Elizabeth's fondness for the memory.

"I tried to teach him and he was hopeless at art…" she chuckled, "but he didn't mind posing for me. I told him that it was perfectly all right, that he could stick with what he knew. The awful part was that when my parents died and I got word of it, I was happy…it was as though my shame died with them. My sister, the only living relative left, passed away a few weeks later. She committed suicide because the man she wanted chose another. She drowned herself in the lake. I was the only one left…because I was the strong one. I did not let petty things break me as they did. But losing Jehan's child broke me…I don't think I could bear losing another one."

It was a legitimate fear. Claude couldn't very well argue with her. Instead, he said:

"People may fear death every day, but they can't let it stop them from living. There's always that chance that something may happen to a wife or a husband, but people still marry. There's always a chance that the child may die, but God brings them into the world anyway. Nothing happens without some sort of reasoning in His mind. You can either refuse to go any farther and stay where you are or you can make the best of it. I'm not telling you that you can't grieve the loss of your child, but don't act as if you've buried everyone else along with it."

It was a very profound statement. Claude felt as though someone else had made his mouth move because he certainly hadn't thought of those words. For one awful second, he thought Elizabeth was going to shout at him or even strike him.

But she didn't.

She hugged him.

"Thank you, Claude."

He squeezed her back.

She released him and took off. He hoped that she was going to find Jehan.

"You did it," Esmeralda whispered.

"I didn't do anything," Claude protested, "I just talked."

"But you told her what she needed to hear," Esmeralda reminded him, "that was brave, especially with her temper."

It wasn't until then that Claude remembered how nasty Elizabeth could get when she was angry. He just shrugged.

Elizabeth found Jehan in the gardens. He was standing next to the small pond, staring out across it. The moonlight highlighted his soft hair and his slumped shoulders. The poor man looked absolutely lost. She felt a hideous pang of guilt for what she had put him through. It really hadn't been his fault…how many times had she blamed him, shouted at him, struck him?

The impact of what she had done to him was evident when she touched him. Though her hand was gentle, he pulled away so quickly and violently that it was as though she'd scalded him. Though he was taller than her by almost a head and could pick her up easily, he was afraid of her.

It broke her heart.

He studied her carefully in the moonlight. The hard, cold expression was gone. Her dark eyes were soft again and pooling with tears. Trembling, she held out both arms to him.

He moved slowly towards her as though anticipating a hit. When she didn't, he was close enough for her to feel his breath. Her hand rose and she felt him cringe. When he didn't pull away, her fingers traced the side of his cheek, caressing him. She gently guided his face closer to hers and kissed him so tenderly that he began to tremble as well. After a moment, he responded. She tasted many things on his lips; relief, joy, sadness, and most importantly, love. He gathered her up in his arms and lifted her so that they were pressed against each other. She could feel his heartbeat quickening and her own breath doing the same. His heartbeat was the most beautiful feeling in the world.

Claude and Esmeralda watched, smiling from the window.

"He's forgiven her," Esmeralda said, voice loaded with sweetness, "look at him…"

"I suppose he has," Claude commented, "he always pretended to be a hellion, but I always knew better. He's a soft touch under his so-called 'reputation'."

He chuckled quietly to himself.

"We should probably let them alone now," Esmeralda commented, "things are getting quite…intimate…down there."

Claude's face flamed red and he quickly moved away from the window. He muttered something about modesty and Esmeralda giggled. She had turned away as quickly as he did.

"I wonder if it was like that for Adam and Eve," Esmeralda commented, "you know…in the Garden of Eden."

Claude flushed even deeper as the images filled his mind. No inhibitions, no interruptions…just soft grass and flowers and the smell of fruit and the open sky…

"Maybe," he answered awkwardly. A strange heat burned through his body and settled uncomfortably in his lower abdomen. He shook his head as if to shake the thoughts from his mind.

"I should like to try it sometime," Esmeralda commented, more to herself than to him.

Claude wanted to scream out of frustration. He begged her in his thoughts to stop saying such things. She was puzzled by his sudden departure at first.

_Oops…_

She grinned to herself, realizing she'd accidentally embarrassed him. Then, it dawned on her what she'd just said.

_Oh, my God…I just told a __**priest**__ about one of my most intimate fantasies…why did I say that out loud?_

It hadn't been just any priest, either. It had been one that she knew for a fact had feelings for her.

Strangely enough, the thought didn't disgust her…several months ago, it had been impossible to imagine herself ever being friendly with Claude, let alone _other things._ Now, it didn't seem so far-fetched. He was easy to talk to once the horrible awkwardness had passed. He was very respectful to her. He cared about her.

Much to her chagrin, she remembered the dark gloves he had always worn as a priest and imagined what it would feel like to have them running up and down her bare skin. She shook her head and shuddered violently. The image had made her feel uncomfortably warm.

No one got very much sleep that night…


	14. Chapter 14

The morning came faster than she expected it. When she awoke, she was surprised to find that the heaviness that usually haunted her soul was gone. Yes, she wished things had gone differently, but the worst of it seemed to be over. Jehan was still fast asleep, his arms draped loosely around her. She kept her eyes closed, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his ribs and belly with his breath. She hadn't realized how much little things like that meant so much to her…waking in bed by herself hadn't been a common occurrence in many years. Though Jehan was thinner, leaner, and firmer and she was soft and squishy, it was as though their bodies fit together. Her head on his chest allowed her to listen to the musical sound of his heartbeat. It slowly increased as he stirred and stretched under her. The sensual slide of skin on skin was a luxury that she'd deprived both of them for a hellishly long period.

"Jehan?"

"Mmmm?" he grunted, still somewhere between asleep and awake.

"I'm so sorry for how I've treated you."

He knew that already, but she felt that it needed to be said just the same. His hand massaged her back in small circles to indicate that he'd heard.

"I really don't deserve you," she confessed brokenly, "and I wouldn't blame you if you left."

His hand paused.

"Do you want me to leave?"

He sounded genuinely puzzled. They'd made love in the garden last night, dressed, came back up here, then made love again. Why did women have to be so complicated. Hadn't he made it clear with his actions last night that all was forgiven?

"No. I don't," Elizabeth confessed, "I would be heartbroken."

"Then you shouldn't worry about that."

He kissed her on the forehead.

"I…"

A carefully placed hand over her mouth cut off her words. He was barely touching her lips, but the gesture held far more power than he knew.

"Elizabeth, does it _look_ like I'm going anywhere?"

"No…I mean, I would hope not," she laughed when he lowered his hand.

"Then you have your answer."

He felt her sigh.

"What is it now?"

"I've been thinking…"

Jehan was glad that she couldn't see his eyes roll.

"I realized that I'm not going to make it without you," she admitted, "waking up without you and going to sleep without you was downright painful. And the thought of you going away…"

He felt her shudder.

"I don't want you to go. I want to wake up next to you every day. I want to go to sleep when you're there to hold me. I want to try again to have a child someday."

Jehan chuckled.

"You_ do_ realize that what you're describing sounds exactly like marriage, don't you?"

Elizabeth flushed. Her cheek grew hot against his chest.

"Yes," she mumbled guiltily.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" His tone was teasing, as was the finger he traced down her cheek.

"I want it," she gave in, "more than I realized…more than I remember wanting anything else."

"Then I'm not going anywhere," he informed her.

…

It was strangely quiet in the kitchen without Jehan and Elizabeth. Claude and Esmeralda grinned conspiratorially at each other as they slipped past the couple's room. They would have the servants save some food for them.

"They're still getting married," Esmeralda commented, gently spreading some honey on the still-warm bread, "I can feel it."

"As if we didn't have enough evidence," Claude muttered, "they were an absolute nightmare when they weren't talking."

He sipped at his tea. Since it was such a beautiful morning, they were eating outside. The table in the garden had been Elizabeth's idea since everyone seemed to like the garden.

"I hope none of us ever fights again," Esmeralda commented, "we've become like family."

"A matter of necessity," Claude commented, "when Adam and Eve had to leave Eden, they had no choice but to stick together. They didn't know what the rest of the world was like and it was probably frightening for them."

"I wonder if they ever argued," Esmeralda commented.

"I suppose they did," Claude chuckled, "every couple does at one time or another…so I've heard."

"Did you ever get lonely?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Of course…I think the hardest years were when Quasimodo was a child. I'd be exhausted and he always wanted something. No one could really relate to it as they'd never had children. Even if I'd had someone to keep me company on the nights that he stayed awake from sickness or some other problem, I'd have been grateful for it," Claude confessed.

She knew that Claude had raised Quasimodo, but she had always had difficulty picturing him as a father.

"I can see why God prefers that some people marry," Claude admitted, "I never knew that raising a child was so difficult. I had Jehan before that, but he was raised by a foster family nearby because I hadn't finished my training yet. That was easier than having Quasimodo full-time. It was worse because Quasimodo was deaf and it took some time for him to learn to lip-read. He was also too strong for my comfort at times…I knew he would never have tried to hurt me on purpose, but it was in the back of my mind."

Esmeralda nodded.

"I've helped watch other people's children, but I never had to do it longer than a day or two," she confessed with a newfound respect for Claude.

"I always told Jehan that he could borrow Quasimodo for a night if he wanted to have babies of his own," Claude joked, "he never took me up on it."

"You must have done something right," Esmeralda told him, "Quasimodo is one of the sweetest men I have ever met."

Claude's eyes averted and he flushed awkwardly. It was the biggest compliment he'd ever been given.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice loaded with emotion.

An odd warmth filled Esmeralda's gut and she was certain it wasn't from the tea. Her hand moved about an inch to the right and grazed against his. She felt him stiffen slightly before he took her hand in his. Neither one looked at the other or said anything for a moment.

"I miss him," Claude confessed, "he's the closest thing to a son I'll ever get and now I can't go back."

She squeezed his hand gently.

"Maybe you'll have another chance."

_Oh God…_

The rational part of Claude's mind warned him fervently that he shouldn't read too much into that statement. The emotional part of him was overjoyed and frightened at the same time.

….

"Elizabeth, come here," Jehan hissed. Elizabeth stepped over to the window and looked down. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from making any noise.

Directly below them, Claude and Esmeralda were sitting at the table with their hands joined.

_My…things do look promising,_ she thought warmly.

"Let's give them more time and then join them," Jehan whispered.

She nodded. They took their time getting bathed and dressed. By then, Claude and Esmeralda had come back inside.


	15. Chapter 15

"It will be my best work of art yet," Elizabeth bragged as she sketched furiously, "and it will make me the most well-known seamstress in all of England!"

Esmeralda watched over her shoulder as the image appeared. The dress would be white with lavender and gold trim. Intricate adornments and beading would also be used; it would probably take a long time to finish, but what was the hurry? Anything worth doing, she had discovered, took time and patience. Her own bridesmaid's dress would be lavender and gold with much less white. Elizabeth's favorite flowers were yellow roses and white and yellow daisies; she had planned the wedding for midsummer when those flowers would all be in bloom. Unwilling to get caught up in all of this feminine stuff, Claude and Jehan had left them to it. The two men had other things to do.

Luna was old enough to start halter-and-lead training. He had instructed Esmeralda to rub all over Luna's body, to lift her feet and tap on her hooves, and to especially rub on her face. He had started this practice when she was only a few hours old; it was referred to "imprinting". This taught the foals not to be afraid and to trust that the humans wouldn't hurt them. Tapping on their hooves got them used to having their hooves checked for injury. Touching all over the body made checking them for illnesses much easier and also helped with putting on or taking off riding gear or pulling harnesses. Luna didn't object too much when the small halter was fitted over her face, but she shook her head strenuously, trying to get rid of the invasive thing. After she got used to that, Jehan attached the lead to it and began to teach her to follow the lead.

Claude, who didn't know how to train horses, merely followed instructions or watched.

"Get over here! She's your horse, too!" Jehan reminded him.

When Esmeralda and Elizabeth wanted breaks from making Elizabeth's dress, they would also come outside and work with Luna. There were times that Luna did NOT want to cooperate and would stubbornly brace herself against the pressure on the lead.

"Keep the tension in the line," Jehan instructed Esmeralda, "she'll step forward eventually because it's uncomfortable. If you slacken the rope, she'll learn that she can get her way if she holds out long enough."

Esmeralda did as he said. Eventually, Luna gave a puff of annoyance and stepped forward. Esmeralda slowly backed up and Luna followed.

"Good," Jehan praised them both, "now that she knows what to expect from you, she'll pay more attention."

The time that Esmeralda had been spending with Luna was evident; she seemed to listen to Esmeralda more than anyone else and it took her longer to disobey her.

"That's enough for now," Jehan said, letting Luna back into the fenced-in area with her mother, "we don't want to overdo it."

Luna, happy to be rid of the rope, bucked, snorted, kicked, and ran. Esmeralda laughed hysterically. It was if the young filly was saying "Thank God I'm free at last!"

Even though there were plenty of stable hands to give Luna a thorough brushing at Esmeralda's whim, she preferred to do it herself. She did a lot of thinking as she polished Luna's coat to a pearly shine.

Tonight, Claude kept crossing her mind. She had watched him working with Jehan today. There was something endearing about his windblown dark blonde hair, the impish sparkle in his blue-green eyes, and the ever-present smile that seemed to be a constant now. She couldn't help but wonder if there was an inner gypsy in him somewhere…he seemed to have a great appreciation for the open air. Though he had taken to retreating to the chapel in the evenings and sometimes in the mornings before breakfast, he seemed to enjoy the freedom of the outdoors as much as she did. When he smiled, his features softened considerably and she all but forgot the immense age gap between them.

She remembered that morning a week ago when she had reached for his hand. She would never forget the shock in his eyes or the way his cheeks had flushed. Though Phoebus had been a very handsome man in his own right, he lacked Claude's genuineness. Phoebus had been like the perfect apple on the outside only to have been full of worms on the inside. Claude, in comparison, was like a diamond that only needed polishing to make it shine brilliantly. A strange twisting in her stomach at the thought made her wonder why she'd thought that. It was the first time that she'd ever compared Phoebus to Claude.

It was odd, she realized. She'd thought about Phoebus less and less over the last several months until she almost never thought of him. In fact, she didn't miss him at all. She rewarded Luna with a scratch behind her ears for her patience and put the brush away.

"I thought I'd find you here," Elizabeth's voice said, "you seem to have developed a fondness for horses."

Esmeralda smiled.

"I suppose I have," she admitted, "sometimes I think I understand them better than I ever understood humans."

Elizabeth laughed.

"That sounds like something Jehan would say," she commented, "you should have seen Claude's face when he referred to Luna as his new daughter."

Esmeralda giggled.

"Of course, Jehan didn't say Luna's name, so Claude misunderstood and got very, very nervous."

Esmeralda laughed hysterically.

"Then, he cuffed Jehan in the back of the head and told him never to frighten him like that again. Jehan wanted to know when there would be a real baby."

Esmeralda abruptly stopped laughing, but the smile didn't die.

"What did Claude say?" she asked, amused.

"He couldn't say anything…he turned as red as a strawberry. Then, he sputtered out that Jehan shouldn't make such assumptions."

Esmeralda's expression was thoughtful.

"There was a time when Claude worshipped the ground I walked on," she commented, "but he's changed."

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "he's waiting on you to say something. I think he was so mortified about what happened in Paris that he's determined not to make the same mistake again. If I didn't know any better, I would say that you're starting to return his affections."

Esmeralda could feel her face growing hot.

"We are friends," she said firmly, "what makes you think there's something more?"

Elizabeth's eyes twinkled.

"It's inevitable, dear. First, you managed to put aside your conflicts and that lessened all of the discomfort between the two of you. He's taken an interest in the things that you like, and you've taken an interest in his. You've gone from barely tolerating each other to spending a large part of the day together. How could you not fall in love? There was also that little moment in the garden…"

Esmeralda's face felt like it was on fire.

"You saw that?"

"Oh, yes. Jehan and I both did," Elizabeth commented, "Jehan hasn't stopped teasing Claude about it since. I don't think there was ever a man as much in love as Claude is with you."

"I can't help that," Esmeralda blurted out.

"The question is do you want to?"

Esmeralda frowned. She hadn't thought about it. She'd shoved that thought out of her mind immediately after the first traces of attraction the night that Jehan had forgiven Elizabeth. She hadn't dared to let her mind wander to such an intimate thing.

"I don't know…"

They left the stable.

"Let me put it this way: would you care if Claude fell in love with another woman?"

Esmeralda stared up at the sky, dotted with stars.

"Yes," she admitted, "it seems that whether we liked it or not, we were somehow always tied to each other. Even though the image in my mind of the future was grim and frightening, I never pictured it without him. It seemed inevitable."

She had always thought that the only way she'd ever be free of Claude was when he finally died of old age…she had never given a thought to harming him or running away after she promised her life to him. He had been kind enough to save her however selfish his motivations had been…she always felt as though she owed him.

Being around Elizabeth and Jehan had made a considerable difference. Though they had not made their marriage formal, it seemed that Jehan and Elizabeth were married already. Though they weren't without difficulties, they seemed to overcome most of them well enough. They were friends, Esmeralda noticed, as well as lovers. They could live without each other, but they didn't want to. Trying to picture a life like that with Claude was certainly more desirable than him always being the controlling one and she being nothing more than a puppet to be manipulated. She no longer recoiled at his touch, no longer grew nauseated at his presence. He had become a source of comfort because he had managed to take care of her as much as she allowed it.

Elizabeth was grinning. Esmeralda had not spoken, nor did she need to. Watching the progression of emotions flash across her face said more than words could.

"See? You love him," Elizabeth whispered, "I always knew you would. Now, the question is what are you going to do about it?"


	16. Chapter 16

The change stood out in Claude's mind immensely, but he was terrified of bringing it to Esmeralda's attention. He had never had any close female friends, so he wasn't sure if he was reading into it too much. It was hard not to notice…

He became aware of her seeming to touch him more and the touch lingering longer than it used to. Her eyes seemed to be brighter, her cheeks rosier, and she seemed happier in his presence. She seemed to be more comfortable with a closer proximity, where she had once been offended if he'd invaded her personal space.

The biggest revelation took place in the chapel. Unsure of what he should do, Claude prayed intensely and often for guidance. His friendship, he knew, was a gift from God and he didn't want to abuse it or take advantage of it. He had no sooner said "amen" one night when the door creaked open.

Esmeralda stood there, the faint golden light from her candle casting a soft glow on her features.

"Oh…I'm sorry…did I interrupt you?" she asked.

"No."

He rose from his kneeling place and crossed the room to her. Though the nights were starting to get warmer, it was a particularly chilly night.

"Elizabeth had some ginger tea made," Esmeralda said, passing the steaming mug into his hand, "she said it would keep you from being frozen in here until the place could be heated properly."

"Thank you."

He took a big drink and the spiciness of the ginger and cinnamon warmed him all the way down to his toes. Esmeralda placed the lit candle on the altar and looked around.

"This place has certainly changed," she commented, "it looks as though it was never abandoned."

The new shelves in the back now held several items. Elizabeth had painted a few crucifixion scenes and they had been framed into the shelves themselves as a part of the structure. Some valuable family heirlooms also were arranged on the shelves. Claude had acquired a few books from town that acted as a library here. The next room would be turned into a study. Brand new deep-red cushions adorned the curved pews and some old family tapestries were hanging on the walls.

"That's the idea," Claude commented good-naturedly.

"I can see your touch everywhere," Esmeralda commented, running her fingers over the smooth wood, "it's as though everything in here is infused with your passion for God…like it flowed out of your fingertips into the wood."

Claude's heart swelled. It was a great compliment to him as a man of God.

"I was afraid that when I came here, I would lose that part of myself," he admitted, "but I realized that I didn't need to be dressed in robes and live in a cathedral to be His servant…there are other ways. I thought I wouldn't survive leaving Notre Dame, but then I realized that a part of me must die so that other parts could grow. By perpetuating the prejudice and the harshness toward the very people we were in charge of saving, I think we all missed the point…"

He was referring to the other priests at Notre Dame.

"I realized that it wasn't about rituals, robes, and rules," he admitted, "it was about helping people better their lives and helping them see that God's love made a broken world less broken."

"It shows," Esmeralda commented, "not just in your work, but in what you've done for Elizabeth and Jehan. No one else could have helped them but you."

"I doubt that," Claude objected, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

"You were the only one who'd seen it before," she told him, "you knew what to say and when to say it. Because of you, they'll be together forever."

The admiration in her tone moved him deeply. He'd only ever seen Quasimodo show him so much admiration, and even then, it didn't come as close as this. He noticed a stray strand of hair hanging in her face and gently brushed it away. The memory of the night he'd touched her face and her hair in the bell tower came to mind.

But she didn't run away this time. She didn't even pull away. Her eyes closed and she leaned into his touch. His pulse quickened as he felt the blood rush to her cheek under his fingertips.

Cautiously, he leaned in closer. He could now feel her breath on his face, still a mixture of spicy and sweet from the tea she'd been drinking earlier. The candle sputtered in the background.

It was hard to say who was more surprised. Claude had been unable to close the gap completely and stopped about two inches away from her lips. Esmeralda was the one to lean forward and make contact.

The blood rushed to Claude's face and his heart felt like it would explode. He froze and his breath was paralyzed in his lungs. It was the moment he had longed for since he'd met her and now he couldn't move…

Her arms snaked around him and a thousand sensations exploded loose at once. He was suddenly acutely aware of where her hands and arms rested and her heart thundering against his chest. Only one thought managed to penetrate the chaos in his brain: she had responded to him with passion and not disgust.

His own lips moved clumsily against hers and the fire under his skin burst into a towering inferno. His breath moved raggedly in and out of his lungs and he wondered how it was possible to feel feverish and chilled at the same time. Very cautiously, the tip of his tongue flicked against her lips, tasting her. Her lips parted, welcoming the invasion.

Claude thought he was going to die from sheer pleasure.

He was so overcome by the intensity of what he felt that he almost blacked out. His knees shook and buckled, no longer able to support his weight. Keeping her with him, he staggered backward about two steps until he was leaning against the cold stone wall for support. When they finally came up for air, Claude sagged into the floor. Esmeralda knelt next to him, one gentle hand touching his cheek. He wished that the room would stop spinning…

When he opened his eyes again, they were glazed and unfocused. He blinked a couple of times and could finally see clearly again. Embarrassed that he'd nearly fainted, he hoped she wouldn't say anything. She chose not to; instead, she rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. He wrapped both arms around her and settled his cheek against her hair.

"Remember when you said that you would listen to me whenever I asked for something?" Esmeralda finally asked after what seemed like an hour.

He made a noise to indicate that he'd heard her; he wasn't entirely coherent yet.

"I know what I want."

His hand sliding down her back indicated for her to continue.

"I want what Elizabeth and Jehan have," she said, the words coming out in a rush.

She was shocked when Claude tore loose from her grip and ran away. Puzzled, she stared after his retreating back.

Tears pricked her eyes and she stayed there in the floor, her hand tracing the warm spot where he had been sitting.

It was too late, she thought, Claude had lost his patience waiting on her. She lay down and wept until she fell asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

"YOU WHAT?" Jehan roared.

Claude winced.

"I know, I know," he lamented, voice high-pitched with tension, "it was a mistake, but I panicked! Oh, God…she must hate me for that…"

Jehan grabbed Claude by the shoulders and shook him roughly.

"That girl has gone through Hell and back for you and this is how you repay her? She was depending on you, Claude! She finally trusted you enough to make her feelings known! Do you know how much effort on her part that probably took?"

Claude sighed. Tears of frustration were threatening to come forward.

"I've never felt anything like this," he choked out, "it was as though Heaven itself and earth collided and I was between them…I thought my heart was going to pound right out of my chest!"

Jehan couldn't help but laugh.

"And that's a problem _how_?"

"I can't be around her anymore," Claude lamented, "I don't trust myself…"

Jehan rolled his eyes.

"That," he sighed, "is not important. The important thing is that Esmeralda trusts you. If there's a point that you don't want to pass, then you should discuss it with her. Running away from your problems isn't going to make them better. You don't want her to start associating you with pain, betrayal, and misery, do you?"

"No," Claude mumbled, "of course not. I want her to love me."

"What makes you think she doesn't?" Jehan probed.

"She shouldn't after the way I treated her last night," Claude sighed.

"That's the beauty of women, Claude…they forgive us even at times when we don't deserve it," Jehan informed him, "so go apologize to her, work this out, and stop making something so simple into something so complicated. You can thank me later."

…..

"He ran away?" Elizabeth asked, shocked.

"Yes…I thought he would be happy," Esmeralda said, sounding depressed, "he'd claimed to have loved me since we met, but he didn't act like it."

Elizabeth chose a few small beads and began to sew them into an elaborate pattern on the skirt of the dress. Esmeralda was doing embroidery on the sleeves. It was a complicated pattern, but she was doing well enough so far, even despite her mental anguish.

"Well, how was the kiss?"

Esmeralda stared at her for a minute.

"It was…wonderful," she sighed, "I never felt like that when Phoebus kissed me."

"And what about Claude?" Elizabeth probed.

"He seemed very passionate…I was afraid he would faint at one point. He couldn't stand for a long time afterward."

"That must have been it," Elizabeth commented, "I imagine he's never felt anything so intense…it probably frightened him."

"But why? I thought he wanted to kiss me," Esmeralda said, puzzled.

"I imagine it's a priest thing," Elizabeth guessed, "they strive for order and calm in their minds and hearts all of their lives. Anything that seems to cause conflict or chaos is off limits to them. Claude hasn't learned to deal with these kinds of feelings yet. As long as you never returned his feelings, he saw you as a safe object of affection. But now…well, he'll come around eventually. In the meantime, it just takes a considerable amount of patience. He's used to running away—he'll stop eventually. Jehan did the same thing sometimes although he has never been a priest…he had moments where he would freeze up and become cold towards me."

"When did he stop?"

"He stopped when he realized that I wasn't going to leave him over the smallest transgression," Elizabeth answered, drawing her needle and thread through another strand of beads, "a naked soul is a far bigger deal to a man than a naked body. What you saw last night was a part of Claude's heart that he's never exposed before."

Esmeralda nodded.

"Just keep in mind that it may get worse before it gets better," Elizabeth warned, "the more understanding you try to be, the faster he'll begin to trust himself."

They worked on the dress until lunchtime. Claude still did not make an appearance. Esmeralda checked the chapel, but he wasn't there. Jehan was dismissive of his absence and told the women not to worry. Esmeralda suspected that Jehan knew where he was and didn't want to say so.

It was almost time for dinner when Claude finally showed up.

"I found a priest to perform the wedding," he announced, "you have only to name the date and time."

"Thank you, Claude," Elizabeth said warmly, "we appreciate what you've done very much."

Claude looked around.

"Where is Esmeralda?"

"She's in her room," Elizabeth answered, "she claims she's not feeling well. You should go and check on her."

It was a very pointed statement. Claude nodded and went up the stairs. How odd, he thought, that he felt like he was headed for a trial.

He knocked on the door and waited for a response.

"I said I wasn't hungry, now leave me alone!" Esmeralda snarled. Claude cringed, but bravely opened the door anyway. He crossed the room to where she was. She lay facedown on the bed with her face buried in her pillows. Claude's heart ached; she looked like a fallen angel.

"Esmeralda," he choked out, "look at me."

He almost wished he hadn't made that demand. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

"I'm sorry…"

That was all he could force out. His stomach was churning too much.

"I thought you wanted me to kiss you," she said softly, "you were so…passionate."

"I panicked," he confessed, "I wasn't thinking at all…I never once believed that you could love me after what I'd done."

"I don't care about that," she said, voice pained, "Paris is in the past, Claude! Are we always going to let that get between us? What good is loving someone if you never let them love you back? You'll just keep running away until you die, cold and alone with no one to share your life with!"

His eyes glittered and she regretted her outburst immediately.

"You're right," he whispered.

She sat up and he drew her into his arms. His grip on her was tight as if some unseen force would snatch her away any minute.

"I've trusted you," she reminded him, "and now you need to trust me as well."

"Forgive me," he pleaded, "…it seems that every time I try to do right that I hurt you."

A solitary tear appeared on his cheek. In the most tender of gestures, she kissed it away.

"It won't always be like that," she told him, "Elizabeth said so."

Unknown to either one of them, Elizabeth and Jehan were peering through the crack of the slightly ajar door. The scene that they saw was bittersweet. Claude stood beside the bed and Esmeralda was sitting on her knees.

"I've never been in love, either," Esmeralda confessed, "I thought I was, but I was wrong. I can't picture a life with Phoebus at all…"

That was somewhat comforting to hear. Claude sat down on the bed beside her. He chastised himself for how weak his own ego was; he'd often been afraid that he wouldn't measure up to her standards.

"I knew on that day that you talked about Quasimodo," she told him, "although you didn't consider yourself a father, you sounded very much like one. You never realize how much you give yourself away…how much you care about others, that is. Phoebus never did things like that. It was then that I realized that a life with you wasn't a prison term, but one of the best things that would ever be. I didn't believe you that night in the dungeon when you said that you loved me, but I do now."

Claude cursed himself internally…what was it with him? He'd never been so emotional about anything in his life until Esmeralda came along. She seemed to get him choked up at the slightest thing. He was so overcome that he couldn't speak. He hadn't dared breathe the words out again after that…those three little words had been powerful. They had been razors against Claude's soul, tearing it to shreds. Would he ever be able to stop associating love with pain?

His pained expression made Esmeralda feel ill, but she knew it wasn't because of something she'd done. She kissed him on the forehead first, then the cheek.

"I love you, Claude. Take whatever time you need to know that I won't change my mind."

Slowly, he nodded.

Neither of them questioned Jehan and Elizabeth's presence in the hallway. Dinner was a fairly shallow affair, talking about details of the wedding. Esmeralda was relieved when Jehan cracked a joke and Claude smiled again. Both of them ate despite their lack of appetite to show the other one that they were stronger than they looked. After dinner was over, Esmeralda was thinking about doing some more embroidery work when Claude steered her out into the gardens instead. He was scared out of his wits, but it was now or never…in his mind, it seemed that the time would never be right, but he didn't know what tomorrow would bring, either.

"Did you want to talk about something?"

Esmeralda was worried about him; his face was pale and he hadn't said a word on the way out here. He led her to where all the roses were, remembering the day he'd tucked the red one into hair. After he mentally prayed to God that he wouldn't pass out, he retrieved something from his pocket. The item in question had been in his possession since he'd fallen in lust with her and she'd taken sanctuary in the cathedral.

"I do," he admitted, clearing his throat to try and get rid of the squeakiness in his voice. He could see the concern in her face and knew he had to get to the point quickly.

"Esmeralda, will you marry me?"

The question sounded awkward and rushed. For all of his Biblical references, his ability to write a beautiful sermon, and his wisdom, Claude found that all of those things had fled from his mind. He was afraid to talk too much, for his throat was constricting rapidly.

A warm smile filled her face and the moment couldn't have been more perfect if a choir of angels had started to sing.

"Of course," she said sweetly, holding her hand out. He slid the simple gold band onto her finger just before he passed out.


	18. Chapter 18

The three of them somehow managed to get Claude back into the house. Esmeralda was grateful, for once, that Jehan and Elizabeth had been eavesdropping.

"Poor Claude," Elizabeth giggled, "he was so overcome with emotion…"

Some of the servants met them at the door. The males easily supported Claude's weight and carried him up to his room.

"He should wake up at any point," Jehan commented, "you didn't let him hit his head, did you?"

"No," Esmeralda said truthfully, "he fell forward, so my legs broke his fall."

Claude grunted and began to stir. His pale face immediately flushed with embarrassment when he saw the three of them standing around him.

"Forgive me," he said weakly, "I'm new to all of this."

Esmeralda's hand on his gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"I think it's sweet," Elizabeth commented, "you'll never be able to hide your true feelings."

Jehan made a face.

"That's when they get the most dangerous," he said in a stage whisper. Elizabeth poked him in the ribs where she knew he was ticklish.

"Come on, Jehan," she said quietly, "let's give them some time alone."

She led her soon-to-be husband out of the room. Esmeralda sat down on the bed beside Claude.

"It could have gone better," he lamented.

Esmeralda laughed.

"I beg to differ," she said.

Claude was puzzled. He wasn't good at this romantic stuff…wasn't that what all women wanted?

"I've never seen anyone care for me as intensely and passionately as you have," she explained, "some would say that you wear your heart on your sleeve even despite your attempts to hide what you feel…I say you wear your heart in your eyes. I've never understood why men try to hide their feelings, especially priests…they're people, too."

"The idea is that we are separated from the people of this earth," Claude explained, "so we must be different, unaffected by earthly things. I suppose it's awfully hard to do that when you live here and the earth is all you know."

His thumb traced circles into the back of her hand.

"Do you ever regret having left Paris?" she asked.

"No. I don't," he said without hesitation, "our parents were determined from my birth that I should be a priest…I became one even after their death out of a sense of duty. I tried to raise Jehan as a scholar and that didn't work…it was quite some time before he decided to raise horses. It wasn't what I wanted for him, but I was grateful that he had found a useful trade. I always felt that I never quite fit in with the clerical lifestyle…it was as though something was missing. I knew the rules and I knew how to keep myself on the straight and narrow, but it was difficult. Do you know that if it hadn't been for my assistant—whom I prayed that I wouldn't strangle in sleep on a regular basis—I would have left you alone that day when you were arrested dancing in the streets?"

Esmeralda remembered their conversation that day. He had never once told her that she couldn't dance. She nodded.

"I thought that once we returned to Notre Dame that you would be left alone," he explained, "and then he'd had you arrested while I was still trying to sort out things with Quasimodo."

"I couldn't stand that man," Esmeralda sighed.

"Neither could I. He thought he knew everything," Claude said, making a face, "but it's very hard to dismiss a priest."

They sat there in a silence for a moment.

"There are parts of it that I miss," he said, "but I don't miss trying to be something I'm simply not."

He sat up and stretched. Deciding that he didn't feel dizzy or otherwise unwell, he moved closer to her.

"I was thinking…someday I might return to Paris," he said, "and I might bring Quasimodo home with me. What do you think?"

"I'm sure he would love it here," Esmeralda answered, "I would like to see Pierre again, and Djali."

He remembered Esmeralda's pet goat. Now that he knew her, he no longer had an aversion to that.

"I'll see what I can do."

It would be her wedding present, he decided. He remembered the small pink shoe that she had in her possession, the one from her infancy. He decided to take it with him to Paris, as he had a theory he wanted to investigate. He had seen the shoe somewhere.

He remembered the shoe in the clutches of a pair of frail-looking hands. Though they were thin and bony, they did not have the spidery veins or the wrinkles of an old woman. He remembered a day many, many years ago when he had seen the shoe in younger hands, back when he had first been ordained.

Yes…

"What is it?" Esmeralda asked, causing his thoughts to crash to a halt.

"I was just thinking of what I'd need for this journey," he said, "I was thinking about taking Jehan with me. Would you be able to stand some time here with just Elizabeth and the staff?"

"Yes. We could manage."

He kissed her on the cheek.

"We're going soon, then," he said, "and I will bring your wedding gift with me when I return."

"I have all that I want," she confessed.

He smiled, grateful that she was grateful for small things. Her face was rosy and her lips were flushed. He leaned in to kiss her and was determined not to do anything silly like running away or passing out this time. Though he was rough and unskilled, he knew they had a lifetime to get it right. This time when he held her, he stayed where he was and simply relished the way she felt in his arms. Aside from when Jehan and Quasimodo were very young, he'd forgotten what it was like to hold another human being and feel the air sliding in and out of their lungs.

Esmeralda's breath slowed and he could tell she was on the verge of sleep. Claude's mind was everywhere at once, but it gradually slowed down and centered on what his plan was.

He remembered the great walling-in ceremony that had taken place. A young woman who had the same dark blue eyes and curly dark hair as Esmeralda had been bricked into a cell adjoining Notre Dame. He remembered his shock at seeing one so young becoming an anchoress, but he was also proud that she had chosen to give her life to God. As the wall was bricked in and she was symbolically entombed inside, she had taken the small pink shoe out and gazed at it longingly. He had asked her about the shoe later on and she'd truthfully explained that she'd had a daughter who was stolen from her. He'd visited the woman frequently, asking for prayers on his behalf and on behalf of the others. Her prayer requests had always been the same: that she would one day find her daughter, Agnes.

How had he never made that connection? He supposed that the changing of her features over the years had disguised her beauty. Self-mortification, fasting, lack of light, and quite frankly, very unsanitary conditions, could age one rather quickly. Before he left, he would get the pink shoe and go to Notre Dame. He would tell her that he had found her Agnes and bring her here to reunite them. Esmeralda had often spoken longingly of her mother and now she would have her.

Claude smiled, stroking her hair. It seemed that he was doing something right at last.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Yes, yes, I know that the odds of there being a trap door under an anchoritic cell are slim to none, but it was the only conceivable way out that I could think of short of blowing up part of Notre Dame! For future references, if you guys can help me find another way, maybe I can use a more realistic solution in my other story where I'm also approaching this scene.

The trip back to Paris made Claude feel ill at ease. Jehan had agreed to come, along with a few servants.

Paris, it seemed, had forgotten Claude and Esmeralda. A few of the clerics looked at him, knowing they'd seen him somewhere, but they couldn't put their fingers on it. There were only two in Notre Dame that recognized him immediately.

There was a new archdeacon already, and it was none other than Joseph. His assistant was the ginger-haired young man who had alerted Claude of Quasimodo's coronation as the King of Fools.

"Claude Frollo?" the ginger-haired man hissed in a low whisper. Claude only smiled.

"What are you doing here? Why did you leave? We thought you were dead!" he said, voice barely audible.

"I only came to address some unfinished business," Claude informed him, "then I shall never return."

Andre nodded.

"They put Joseph in as the new archdeacon," he lamented, "he's testing our patience."

Claude gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"Should I alert him of your presence?"

Claude was about to tell him no when Joseph himself appeared. The two men exchanged a heated glance.

"What brings you here?" Joseph asked stiffly, making an attempt to be cordial.

"I have come to address some unfinished business," Claude said calmly, "I shall be gone again before sundown if possible."

Joseph sized him up, trying to figure out his intentions.

"I see. And pray tell, what unfinished business is there?"

Claude could read him like a book. Joseph was glad of his new position, but he wanted to know if he would be getting something out of helping Claude.

"First, I came to collect Quasimodo. He'll be staying with me."

Joseph pounced on that gladly.

"Saves me the trouble," he said smugly, "I was going to send him somewhere else soon. Is that it?"

"I came to have a word with the anchoress," Claude said, "it seems that she has a daughter that she should get better acquainted with."

Joseph thought that one over. The woman was frail and would probably die anyway…she looked like a living skeleton. He knew that he would have to have someone break open the cell to get her out and bury her eventually. The thought didn't please him.

"How do you propose we get her out?" Joseph asked.

"There is a trap door under her bed," Claude informed him, "I saw the edge of it when they moved her in. I imagine it leads to the tunnels beneath Notre Dame. The hardest part will be getting her to move the bed so that we can get her out. It can stay between you, God, and I."

Joseph considered that. He'd be breaking a lot of rules…giving Claude Quasimodo was a no-brainer since Claude was his guardian. The anchoress, however…once she had taken those vows, she was supposed to stay there until she drew her last breath.

"Why are you doing this?" Joseph finally asked. It was clear that he disapproved strongly of Claude having left Notre Dame.

"I have a new life now, and a new home," Claude said truthfully, "I just want to atone for my sins in peace. Your nature makes you more fit for the position than I ever was."

His flattery seemed to work. Joseph enjoyed a good ego-stroking as much as the next man and he always seemed to think he knew best anyway. Though the words made Claude want to be sick, he knew it was worth it.

"And you'll never come back to Paris?"

Joseph didn't want to risk getting caught and Claude understood that.

"Never," Claude vowed.

Joseph sighed.

"Very well…but if we get caught, I'm telling them it was your idea."

"I'd gladly take the blame," Claude answered.

He hated being dependent on Joseph, but sometimes such sacrifices were necessary.

"Go and get your ward first," Joseph said, "we can't retrieve Sister Gudule until after sunset or someone might notice. It would be best if Quasimodo wore a cloak."

Claude nodded. Quasimodo was easily recognizable; he would have to be hidden most of the day.

"And you swear you won't tell?" Claude couldn't help but ask.

"I swear on Notre Dame itself," Joseph said, "as Andre as my witness and God as well."

Andre bowed his head. He didn't want to get involved, but it was too late. Claude secretly thanked God for Joseph's selfishness and disdain for women and anyone who was retarded or deformed.

Quasimodo almost didn't recognize Claude. It took him a few minutes to realize it was Claude.

"MASTER!" he shouted joyfully.

Claude placed a finger to his lips. Talking slowly and deliberately so that Quasimodo could read his lips, he told him what was going to happen.

"You are coming with me tonight," he said, "we are going back to England where Esmeralda is. Do you understand?"

Quasimodo nodded.

"I won't ring the bells anymore?" It seemed to sadden him.

"No…but we'll find something else for you to do. You do want to see Esmeralda again, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Good. Put this on and cover your face when the sun goes down. I'll be back then. Pack up whatever you can carry and that you want to take. Understand?"

Quasimodo nodded again.

"I'll be back," Claude said.

Now, he had to find Pierre and Djali. Luck was with him when he spotted Pierre trying to sell some of his sonnets. Djali tugged impatiently at her lead string and looked bored.

"Pierre Gringoirre," Claude addressed him. Pierre's eyes narrowed and studied him.

"Do I know you?" Pierre asked.

"You did once," Claude explained, "I'm the former archdeacon."

Pierre's jaw went slack.

"Where is Esmeralda? What have you done with her?" he demanded.

"I assure you that she is safe," Claude said calmly, understanding the young man's apprehension, "she is in England with my brother and his soon-to-be-wife."

"She is engaged?" Pierre asked.

"Yes, but to me," Claude explained, "my brother is engaged to another woman."

Pierre's gaze was downcast. He had a feeling that something like that would happen. No wonder they had fled Paris so quickly.

"She misses you and her pet and she wants to see you," Claude informed him, "I came to ask you to come with me when I leave tonight."

Pierre was confused.

"Why? I don't understand," he admitted. Claude seemed the type to be jealous and suspicious enough to keep them apart. Surely the engagement wasn't out of love…

"She doesn't know about it," Claude told him, "she knows that I came here to get Quasimodo. I am also on a mission to find her mother. I intentionally left out my plans to retrieve you and the goat so that it would be a surprise."

Pierre nodded numbly.

"If you would come with us, then you would never have to worry about starvation and lack of shelter again," Claude assured him.

Pierre looked around. He had few close friends and he had no real reason to stay here without Esmeralda. But if he went to England with Claude, he would have to suffer seeing her with another man and knowing that she was bound by a promise. He weighed his options.

"If you want some time to think, you have until sundown," Claude informed him, "meet me at the steps of Notre Dame if you want to come…and bring the goat. I will handle other arrangements."

Pierre nodded.

"I will think about it."

"Good day."

He walked away, leaving Pierre to his decision.

So far, things were going rather well. Claude hoped that Pierre's distrust of him didn't extend very far and that the urge to see Esmeralda for himself would be enough to overcome it. Now was the hard part…

He moved quickly to the anchoress's cell. There was a small window where he could speak to her.

It was so dark inside the cell that he could hardly tell where she was. Upon seeing his shadow blotting out the light, she rose from her kneeling position and slowly made her way closer.

"Who's there?"

Her voice was faint, almost like a ghost's. He could just make out the flash of white that was her face.

"It's the former archdeacon, Madame," he said politely, "my Christian name is Claude."

"Claude? Why did you leave?" she asked, sounding almost resentful.

"It's a very long story, but I'll tell you later. I was wondering if you would be willing to come with me."

She stifled a laugh.

"I'm thin, yes, but I can't fit through that," she said jokingly, referring to the window.

"No…we're getting you out tonight."

She stared at him.

"I cannot leave and you know that."

"Would you leave if you had a very good reason?"

Gudule shook her head.

"I'm afraid the only way I would leave would be if I breathed my last breath," she told him, "or if Jesus himself returned. Otherwise, no."

"What if I tell you that I know where Agnes is?"

Gudule stared.

"What?"

"Agnes, your daughter. I know where she is."

"You are a very cruel man to jest with me, Claude."

"I do not jest. Look!"

Claude held up the baby slipper. Gudule gasped.

"It cannot be!"

She retrieved the other one and Claude stepped aside to let more light in. She held them up to the light and compared them.

"Oh…" she gasped, eyes filling with tears.

"I will take you to her if you'll agree to come with me tonight," Claude told her.

"But I cannot get out," Gudule sobbed brokenly, "I was sealed in over fifteen years ago!"

"You can," Claude told her, "but you have to help us. There is a trap door under your bed if you can just move it out of the way."

Gudule began to shake.

"But I don't have the strength," she lamented, "I am too weak."

Claude seized her bony hand where it rested on the edge of the window.

"How badly do you want to see your daughter?" he whispered, "I will pray for you right here that God will give you strength!"

He recited his Latin, her whispering the words along with him. She let go of his hand and he heard a noisy scraping sound.

"You can do it," he encouraged her.

Scrape! Scrape! Scrape! Scrape!

"How far?" she panted.

Claude tried to estimate the distance.

"Move it as far from the wall as the span of your arms," he said, "that should be more than enough room."

The scraping sound stopped and he presumed that she was measuring the distance. Gasping and panting, she willed herself not to give up even when her muscles screamed and she got no results.

"It's moved," she panted.

Claude smiled.

"Well done, sister. Rest now…you'll need your strength."


	20. Chapter 20

Joseph didn't say much as he led Claude through the tunnels. The only sounds were their footsteps, the occasional water drip, and the guttering of the torch that Joseph carried. There was a narrow stairway, and then the trap door. It took both of them to force the trap door open.

The stench was overwhelming. Claude grimaced and turned his face away for a moment. Judging by Joseph's reaction, he'd thought the exact same thing.

"You owe me," he muttered to Claude through gritted teeth.

"Sister Gudule, it's us," Claude called, "come on. Just follow the light."

They heard the rustling of her habit as she crept closer. Bare feet appeared first followed by her threadbare tunic. What Claude saw next was an absolute nightmare.

The woman looked like a living skeleton. Her robes hung so loosely on her that she may as well have already died. Though she couldn't have been more than thirty or so, her hair had already prematurely turned gray. Only the faintest traces of brown still remained. Her eyes had a distant, haunted look. She stared warily at both of them as if the light from Joseph's torch was even too much for her. Despite smelling like it had been a considerably long time since she'd bathed, Claude tenderly wrapped one arm around her shoulders and guided her down the stairs. She was, after all, going to be his mother-in-law. It would take some time to get her cleaned up, but once her wounds were nursed and she had been adequately fed, she would recover.

"We have clean clothes and a bath waiting for you," Joseph said, making an effort to be civil, "then you'll be on your way to see your daughter."

Gudule, still overcome with the sudden change, said nothing. There were a thousand thoughts running through her head. Her biggest fear was that it was all just a dream or that the two of them had identified the wrong girl. They reemerged inside the cathedral.

"If you need anything else, let us know," Claude said gently. There was a tub of heated water, some soap, a washcloth, some towels, and clean clothes behind a privacy screen. Gudule nodded. Claude left her to her bath and told Joseph he'd be back in a little bit.

He waited on the front steps of the cathedral for quite some time. Just as he was about to give up and go back inside, Pierre came sprinting out of the darkness with Djali in tow.

"I'm sorry," he panted, "I got here as fast as I could. I thought Esmeralda would want this."

He held up Esmeralda's tambourine and waited for Claude to object.

"So, you are coming?"

Pierre nodded.

"Go upstairs and get Quasimodo, then. We'll be leaving shortly."

Pierre nodded and ascended the spiral staircase to the bell tower. Quasimodo recognized him. Pierre helped him adjust his hooded cloak and left him with Djali at the entrance.

There was no way around it; they were going to have to cut the anchoress's hair. She had wrapped herself up in her towel to conceal her thin body while Claude did the cutting. It barely grazed her shoulders, but it would grow back in time.

"You are a very kind man," Gudule told him, "to take such care of me. Even if she is not my Agnes, you must love her very much to go to this trouble."

Claude smiled warmly. She went back behind the screen to get dressed while he remained on this side. He decided it would be better to tell her now than to wait.

"I do love her very much," Claude told her, "she and I were engaged a short time ago. I hope to surprise her by bringing you home to her."

He heard the woman sniff.

"Tell me about her," she said, sounding choked up.

"There's no mistaking her features," Claude informed her, "she looks just like you. My brother's fiancée has been teaching her domestic skills. She's picked up sewing rather well…she seems to have your talent for it."

Gudule reappeared, her dark blue eyes glittering with tears.

"I had hoped to be the one to teach her," she said, voice thick with emotion, "I'm just glad that she is alive."

Once everyone was assembled at the front of the cathedral and ready to leave, the servants had brought the carriage. Gudule was too weak to ride a horse on her own, so she and Quasimodo would stay in there. Claude, Pierre, and Jehan would take turns. While everyone else was getting situated, Claude went to talk to Joseph and the other cleric one last time.

"Thank you for all your help," he said, his gratitude genuine, "none of us will ever forget this."

Joseph nodded curtly.

"God bless your travels," he said stiffly.

Claude mounted his horse and the procession was off. They'd have to be more careful now since they were definitely more conspicuous. The most difficult part seemed to be over.

The sun rose after a long period of time. It had been such a long time since she'd felt the wind and the sun on her skin that she almost recoiled from it. It finally sank in to the former anchoress that she would never be confined in a small, dark space again. Her eyes took in all the colors of the earth around her and she felt something she hadn't felt in years: joy. When they stopped several hours later to break their fast, she had a childlike smile.

"My name is Paquette," she announced, "I'd almost forgotten…"

It was odd to have remembered. Her own name sounded foreign to her after so many years of being stripped of her identity. After many years of fasting, scourging, and denying herself, only ghostly traces of herself had remained under the image of the holy woman. Out here in the open air and the sunshine, she was beginning to remember.

"How would you like to be addressed?" Claude asked, realizing he hadn't asked earlier.

"Just 'Paquette'," she told him, "I know I look old, but I don't feel old yet."

They shared a smile.

"Paquette it is, then," he agreed.

` He introduced her to everyone else though she had talked to a few of them. Though there was more than enough food to go around, Paquette could only eat a little bit at a time. Her stomach wasn't used to such an abundance and it made her feel sick if she overate. The others knew that this would go away with time.

…

"If we continue at this rate, we'll be finished in no time," Elizabeth announced. The wedding dress only needed a few finishing touches. To ensure the fit, she had tried it on.

"Elizabeth…you look beautiful!" Esmeralda commented.

She would make a beautiful bride. The white and gold brought out the rosiness in her cheeks and the lavender complimented her brown hair perfectly. Her dark eyes were sparkling and the dress flattered her abundant curves. True, she was still heavier than most women, but that didn't take away anything.

"We'll have to get to work on yours after we finish mine," Elizabeth commented, "have you decided what you'd like for it?"

"Oh, I couldn't," Esmeralda objected, "you've already given me so much…"

"That's what sisters are for," Elizabeth said, waving her hand, "besides, you need a proper dress."

She began to remove the wedding dress and put the simple gray one she'd been wearing back on.

"My favorite colors are blue and green," Esmeralda said, "they remind me of clear skies and open fields."

"That's perfect," Elizabeth gushed, "we'll start tomorrow. For now, let's get your measurements."

Esmeralda told Elizabeth what she wanted and Elizabeth sketched the gown from all angles. Esmeralda chose the materials, promising she'd eventually pay Elizabeth back somehow.

"I don't want it back," Elizabeth told her, "I like doing things for other people…I just never got a chance until you and Claude came along. Speaking of Claude, isn't he due back today?"

"I think so," Esmeralda replied, "I know it's only been a few weeks, but it seems like forever."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Well, dear, you know what they say…absence makes the heart grow fonder. I imagine he's missed you just as much. I saw the way he looked at you the morning that they left…the two of you could make daisies grow out of stone."

Esmeralda's cheeks took on a shade of pink as she remembered that. Claude had been so unwilling to let go of her that she insisted on going with him. Then, he seemed to remember something else and insisted that she stay with Elizabeth. The two women had taken advantage of their men being gone and redecorated several rooms in the house. The old manor was rapidly taking on new life. Elizabeth's latest project had been the bedroom that she and Jehan shared. The bed hangings had been replaced recently and everything in the room had a sensuous softness.

"I want everything in here to be soft," Elizabeth had informed her with a suggestive wink, "you should think about doing the same with your room."

Since most of the items in Elizabeth's room had been red and gold, Esmeralda chose the softer blues and greens. Since it would be a shared room, she didn't want things to be so feminine that it would make Claude uncomfortable.

When she had gone to bed that night, Esmeralda's stomach was in knots as she thought about what would happen in this bed. Neither she nor Claude knew what they were doing…she knew about the act itself, but she was feeling decidedly nervous. She wondered how much Claude knew of such things and whether he had thought about it.

While Elizabeth was sketching, the thought crossed Esmeralda's mind again.

"Elizabeth, may I ask you something?"

Elizabeth glanced up.

"You know more about it than I do…"

It didn't take long for Elizabeth to figure out what she was about to say, which prevented Esmeralda from having to go any further.

"Are you worried about your wedding night?" Elizabeth asked bluntly.

"Well, yes…"

Elizabeth lay her sketchbook down.

"I'll be right back," she said.

She was gone for a few minutes. When she returned, she carried a book with a red cover.

"You can have this," Elizabeth said with a conspiratorial grin, "Jehan and I haven't needed it for a very long time."

Esmeralda opened the book and nearly dropped it out of shock. On every page, there were drawings of naked figures doing all sorts of erotic things.

"I was given that book for my first profession," Elizabeth said without any trace of shame, "though it's much better when it's with the same man every time. There are no rules as to how to go about it, although I think the church sometimes disagrees with me…the only important things to remember are that different things work for different couples. It will take you both some time to learn the other's body."

Esmeralda had turned several shades of red, each successively darker than the last.

"It takes time to get it right," Elizabeth said as casually as if she were talking about the weather, "the first time might be a little awkward, but it will pass. After so many years of it, I finally realized that love was what made it good."

Esmeralda closed the book and wondered if Claude would be upset if he'd seen her looking at something like that.

"Does it hurt?" Esmeralda asked, having heard one too many horror stories from other women.

"That depends," Elizabeth answered, "it may hurt a little, but it doesn't last long if the man's gentle. Sometimes they get so impatient and excited that they can be rather rough…if it hurts, you have to tell him. Sometimes they don't mean to. You might be a little sore the next day, but it shouldn't hurt a lot."

It was then that Esmeralda longed for her mother the most. As nice as Elizabeth was to take Esmeralda under her wing, it wasn't the same.

"Look," Elizabeth said suddenly.

Esmeralda glanced out the window.

"They're home!" she yelled ecstatically.

"Go put that book away and come downstairs," Elizabeth instructed her. Esmeralda hid the book in question in a drawer and ran down the stairs. Elizabeth shouted at the servants to get things ready; apparently, they were going to have a special dinner tonight.

Esmeralda raced down the front steps, arms outstretched. Claude almost didn't wait until his horse had stopped completely. It was as though the whole world vanished for a moment and it was only them.

"It's about time," Elizabeth huffed at Jehan, feigning annoyance.

"I got here as fast as I could, woman!" he said, feigning irritation. The façade was quickly broken when they kissed so passionately that they others squirmed awkwardly and pretended not to notice. Djali was running around excitedly. Pierre helped Paquette out of the carriage.

"I have a surprise for you. Several of them, actually," Claude informed Esmeralda, "close your eyes."

She did. He led her to where Pierre, Paquette, Quasimodo, and Djali were standing.

"Now you may look."

She did.

It was so strange to have her own eyes staring back at her. She raced from one to the other, letting out joyous cries and hugging them fiercely. Claude stood back and watched, a satisfied grin on his lips. He'd thought he would have to tell Esmeralda that it was her mother, but that seemed unnecessary.

"I didn't even know that you still lived," Esmeralda confessed to Paquette.

"The same went for you," Paquette commented, "but I suppose God kept me around for the wedding. Apparently, we have a lifetime of catching up to do."

Esmeralda returned to Claude and buried her face against his shoulder.

"Thank you," she choked out. If there had ever been any doubt of his love for her, the last traces of it vanished.

Paquette smiled, watching Esmeralda and Claude together. It might have been too late for her, but Esmeralda had found what she herself had never succeeded at. Claude had told Paquette the entire story one night at an inn of what had happened between the two of them. It was going to be an honor to have him for a son-in-law.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: Goodness, has it really been months? Sorry for the long wait—graduate school eats up a lot of time. Anything and everything has happened since September and my muses fled the building once the paper assignments and tests poured in. I'll try to write as much as I can over the break to make up for it. My imagination's a little rusty, so please be patient.

The day of the wedding came more quickly than they seemed ready for it. There was a flurry of preparation, of last minute checking. The day of Elizabeth and Jehan's wedding dawned bright and glorious. It was the first wedding to be held in the manor's cathedral in a very long time. Jehan seemed oddly nervous and would stutter if someone asked him a question. Elizabeth, by contrast, seemed bored and ready to be done with the ceremonial things.

"What's the matter, Jehan?" Claude asked his shaky brother.

"It's hard to explain exactly," Jehan sighed, "all these years, we've never had to worry…we never left each other, though we agreed we could come and go as we pleased. Now we're stuck with each other and we have to make it work…"

Claude smiled.

"You can do it. I've never seen two people who love each other more…if it weren't for you, I wouldn't even know what it is to really love someone."

"There's so much at stake…what if that _thing_ happens again?"

Claude knew that Jehan referred to Elizabeth's miscarriage.

"Well, I wish I could promise you that it wouldn't. It may or it may not happen again—the difference will be how you both deal with it. Nothing can separate you as long as you stay together, both with your minds and your hearts. With God in the center, nothing could separate you."

"I really wanted that child," Jehan sighed, "I was scared witless, but I was looking forward to it. And now, I want to try again…but I don't want her to be disappointed."

"Does she believe it's your fault?" Claude asked.

"She blamed me for getting her pregnant…I admit to that, but she never accused me of hurting the baby."

"If you cannot have your own children, there are always children out there who have been orphaned or cast away. Someone must love them," Claude reminded Jehan, "and that wouldn't make them any less yours."

Jehan nodded.

"You should probably get inside. She's going to be waiting for you," Claude reminded her, "and when you see her, you'll remember everything that made you fall in love with her. The way her eyes sparkle, the way she laughs, the way she looks at you…"

Jehan was halfway to the door before he turned back to look at Claude. Knowing his tense moment was behind him now, Claude followed him inside.

"Well said, my future son," Paquette whispered.

Esmeralda gestured to the empty space on the bench beside her. Claude's cheeks colored a little bit as he settled down beside her. He was suddenly very conscious of her hand slipping into his, of the warmth coming from her. It was a relatively small gathering, but it wasn't any less important. It was strange to be a spectator of a wedding, for he hadn't been one since he was a small child. Elizabeth repeated her vows with a steady, calm voice. Jehan gulped audibly and recited his—he'd been practicing in the garden for several days to make sure he didn't stumble. They slipped their rings onto each others fingers.

The couple stepped into their carriage and away they went. Elizabeth had exchanged her extravagant wedding gown for a simple gray traveling dress. They waved to the others as they passed out of the gate.

"Well," Paquette remarked, "they'll surely have a child by the time they get back."

Esmeralda and Claude turned to look at her before they both chuckled. She glanced up at them with her innocent blue-green eyes, though they were twinkling.

"It will be wonderful to have children in this house again after being deprived of my own," she remarked, "I'm ready."

Esmeralda's giggle turned into a flat-out laughing fit when she saw the expression on Claude's face. He flushed several shades of scarlet before clearing his throat and turning back towards the house.

"That poor thing," Paquette remarked, "his virginal ears are probably sizzling right now. You can take the priest out of the cathedral, but you can't take the cathedral out of the priest."

Claude had gone inside, so it seemed safe for them to talk frankly.

"I knew him when he was still a boy," Paquette commented, "they were always harassing him about how this was a sin or that was a sin. When he saw you, he was so mixed up that he couldn't remember which direction the sky was. He was mortified by my frank speech to him at first, but I was the only one who had been on the outside. I was the only one who understood. He would come to me late at night and beg me to help him understand why these things were happening to him."

Esmeralda nodded. It would explain why he'd been pleading with her one minute and treating her harshly the next.

"I had to tell him that his…physical reactions…were quite normal and that he was doing nothing wrong. This was not God's way of torturing him, that he was just a healthy man with healthy reactions. The only unhealthy thing about his feelings was how he acted on them. He'd spent so many years tamping those desires and questions down inside that they exploded forward and he couldn't control them any longer."

Esmeralda nodded. She hadn't been able to understand Claude at the time—he'd seemed so selfish and angry. It seemed unreal that he had once been a monster to her.

"At the time, I did not know you were mine, but I knew I didn't want you to be destroyed. The only way that I could help you was to convince him that he loved you."

Esmeralda's jaw dropped.

"Then, I knew it was only a physical attraction that drove him to you, but I convinced him that he was in love with you so that you would be saved. I prayed many nights that you would go with him, far away from Paris. The rest, I knew, would be corrected with God's hand and time."

"And now?" Esmeralda asked, almost afraid to know.

"Though he wasn't in love with you before, he certainly is now," Paquette told her, "I have no doubt of it. I wasn't aware that you were my daughter until he brought me the other shoe—the satin pink one with the beadwork. He told me that he owed me his life and that this was the only way he could repay me. I thought I was dreaming."

Esmeralda's head was spinning.

"You chose him for me."

"In essence, I did. When I still knew you as the gypsy girl, I heard all sorts of gossip outside my cell. I heard of you developing an interest in that pig, Phoebus. I knew that wouldn't work, for he was all looks and no brains. I knew that Pierre wouldn't work because there was no mutual attraction. You would want someone with passion, with stubbornness, with enough gall to do something absolutely foolish if need be. You would need someone that would come to love you as they knew you better—that left Claude. The only problem was that he had taken vows…you would both need to escape from Paris to shed your mutual chains. I talked him into it and I prayed that you would agree to it."

Esmeralda glanced back at the house. She remembered how haunted Claude had looked the day of her supposed execution. He had played the part of the callous archdeacon very well. He had only let the mask slip for a moment where she could see the fear—he didn't want her to die. She tried to imagine what would have happened if she hadn't agreed…what would have become of him?

"He grows more sure of himself with each day," Paquette commented, "he'll be a great father when the time comes."

Esmeralda remembered the day in the garden when she'd first touched his hand and the spark that had sizzled between them. For all his clumsiness in such matters, she loved him even more for that innocence. Everything was new to him, including her.

"My time for love has come and gone and I wouldn't trade it for anything," Paquette informed her, "but yours is just beginning. If I could give you one bit of motherly advice, it would be to take absolutely nothing for granted."

She placed her hand on Esmeralda's back and nudged her towards the house.

"Go on," she urge her, "I want to stay out here for a while and explore the gardens. I can't get enough of the outside."

Esmeralda hugged her briefly before sprinting towards the house. Paquette grinned as she watched her retreating back.

_Perhaps you aren't as shallow as I first imagined,_ she thought.


End file.
